A Feeling You Can't Get Back
by elleisforlovee
Summary: After a year of waiting, Sybil and Tom finally feel as if their life together has begun but they soon find it's impossible to leave the past behind without confronting the people they used to be. *Part of the Don't You Mind? Universe*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** **:** Happy Christmas Eve to all who celebrate. If you do not, I hope you got a day off from work/school/life in general. I did not, so I'm using company time to post this for you :)

This takes place a year after _Don't You Mind?_ ends. My other _DYM?_ drabbles fit into this same universe and while it's not essential that you read those, it would probably help. This is part one of what I originally planned to be a 2-part series but in the middle of writing Part I I was already at 18,000+ words and realized it might be best to split this up. It's likely it will be four parts total, but we will see. I'm currently dealing with holiday/birthday madness as well as planning for my cross-country move so I can't say when I'll have the next part up but I'll do my best. I also plan on having the next chapter of _Crash Into Me_ up shortly - fingers crossed!

Any and all mistakes are mine. I apologize in advance.

Enjoy! x

* * *

"...And you discover that **home** is not a person or a place  
But a feeling you can't get back."  
Noah Gundersen, _The First Defeat_

* * *

Not too long ago Sybil had told Tom that if he ever wrote his mother she wished Mrs. Branson would write him back. Sybil wasn't granted this luxury and now it had been a full four years since she'd last spoken to her family. Helen didn't write, of course. Tom went months without a response. He'd send a letter every week, some short and others quite detailed. He talked about his life, about Sybil, and about the job he was working so hard to succeed in. He did not, however, mention Isla.

"Please tell me this is a joke, Tom…"

He sipped at his coffee, doing so rather casually while Isla slept soundly against his chest. She'd been asleep since before they left for the airport and remained in that state through security and at the gate. The child was so silent, Sybil and Tom did not receive the glares they once had when boarding a similar flight headed West instead of East.

"Tom…" Sybil tried once more, her voice warning. Despite the tragedy both had endured, somehow the two were still in a state of bliss around one another. They were able to forgive more easily and in this case Sybil found Tom's dimpled smirk to be more adorable than irritating.

"It doesn't matter, Syb. My mum loves babies and she's not going to put us out of the street just because we show up with a child."

"A child?" Sybil repeated incredulously. "Our child, Tom. A very happy accident. I'm not ashamed of her and I would think—"

"You are not even going there," he dismissed. "Can you just trust me, please?"

"I do trust you. I mean, of course I do, but I don't want—"

"My mum loves babies, Syb. Believe me when I say that Isla's presence will be the easiest thing we deal with this week."

Sybil leaned her head back with fingers tightly gripping the edges of each armrest. This was the second time she'd made this voyage back to Ireland but the first where Tom sat safely by her side. The last time the two took a plane ride together, their relationship was an unspoken one and their futures contained nothing but uncertainty. Tom did not have a job then and Sybil had not yet begun classes. Now, Tom did have a job and was working to move upward in the very near future. Sybil had a full year of medical school under her belt and come Summer, the two planned to move into a flat in Brooklyn. The two of them, practically children then, had matured and changed more than they ever thought was possible. Returning to Ireland was not just an act of reconciliation with Tom's family but also a chance for Sybil and Tom to put to rest the people they once were.

~!~

When Sybil was here last she had paid an unfortunate amount of money to travel from the airport to where she met Tom outside of Mountjoy Prison. Greeting the midday sun, she cradled a now lively Isla on her hip. The child dropped her head against her mother's shoulder, her fingers in her mouth while she watched from behind wide eyes the way Dublin was just beginning to come alive. Sybil and Tom knew Isla couldn't possibly remember her time here and they relished in this fact because it meant she also had no recollection of the time in her life when her father was not present.

Sybil held their carry-on while Tom very easily gripped the handle of both their suitcases. Just as simply, Tom helped Sybil and Isla onto the bus and as Sybil realized how calm Tom felt amongst strangers in a place he once called home, she began to retreat into her role as an outsider.

"Syb?"

She looked up, realizing Tom was standing now. His hand was outstretched and his foot pointed toward the aisle of the bus, signaling the direction in which he wished to go. "This is our stop, love," he said, showing Sybil that it was possible he had been trying to get her attention for quite some time. She stood and followed him off the bus. Everything around them was so quiet, so normal, but she was instantly thrust back into an unsure mental state. The prospect of seeing Mrs. Branson after all this time terrified her more than anything in this tiny neighborhood ever had.

Off the bus, Sybil repositioned the strap of Isla's diaper bag. The child mewed at the redistribution of weight but was quickly made silent once more, almost as if she knew such a thing was needed when her parents seemed so uneasy.

"It all looks the same," Sybil commented.

Tom looked back to her. The bags he carried temporarily kept the couple at a distance. "We haven't been gone for that long," he reminded. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't...I don't know," she shrugged. "So much has changed in our lives, I just kind of thought Dublin would follow suit."

"Well, not quite. Same struggle. Same violence. They paved some of our roads," Tom quipped, earning him the exact smile he predicted Sybil would give. With it, he was given permission to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Isla must have noticed because she looked up to her father while he and Sybil shared a soft kiss. It was only when they pulled away that they were not as alone as they once had thought — here in the present or all those months ago.

The weekend market was setting up along the East end of the Liffey and mothers brought their children out of their homes and toward the city-centre. Tom and Sybil moved contrary to the population, slipping into a back alley Sybil remembered brought them toward the rear of Tom's childhood home.

"Why do you think your mum never moved?"

Turning over his shoulder to smirk at her, Tom took a moment before replying. "Me." Sybil paused, her eyes narrowing. Before she could speak, Tom let out a soft chuckle and continued to move, knowing she'd follow. "She may not have come to see me much, but I know she stayed here because it meant she was close to me. And during that time, Katie Grace fell in love and so she's stayed for that too."

"And when we go back and Katie Grace has moved out of the house with her husband?"

They were at the door to Tom's home now. Losing himself in Sybil's question, he shrugged, meant to distract himself from the nerves he felt building in his chest. Sybil noticed but she made no mention of the behavior. "Maybe she'll stay or maybe she'll go back to the country. I don't really know if she knows yet. When I was supposed to go North it made sense for her to leave. She was ashamed and she didn't want a part in the role I was playing. But now I'm safe and Katie is safe and she feels close to my Dad here." A pause. "I think, really, that's why she really stays. This is where she met my Dad. This is where they fell in love and created their life together. I think in a way she feels that by leaving it, she's letting go of him and I don't know if she's ready to do that just yet."

Without further word, Tom turned the knob of the giant wooden door and pushed inside. The once drab hallway was painted a fresh white and when the light came in from the window above the door, it distracted each visitor from the somewhat stale scent that existed in the stairway separating the apartments on the first floor from those on the second.

Upward they climbed, with Tom making a sassy apology for their lack of an elevator. This was a comment on their current living situation in New York and how such a task as simple as ascending a flight of stairs was normally done with help from a porter. Standing just outside the Branson's home, Sybil paused. She nodded toward the door, waiting for Tom to move. "Aren't you going to knock?"

"I know it's unlocked. I'm deciding whether a knock is even appropriate."

"Well you don't live here anymore, so yes, I'd say it is. Also, you've apparently not told your mother that Isla exists so I think it unfair of us to invite ourselves into her home when she only knows half of the truth."

"I can't wait for you to see how insignificant this will be for her…"

"Our arrival or Isla?"

Before Tom had the chance to respond, the door opened. On the other side stood Katie Grace, her dirty-blonde hair loosely plaited and her eyes wide as ever. She was not shocked, but amusement pushed her cheeks upward and caused the corners of her mouth to pull in the same way. "Mam!" she called. "Tom is here. And he's got with him a baby."

"Katie Grace!" Tom shushed. "Dún do bheal!"

The youngest Branson did not turn back to her brother. Instead, she walked them further into the kitchen where her mother was currently preparing a roast for that night's supper. Helen Branson looked up. Her expression lacked any and all amusement, and as she approached the couple, Katie took her place behind the counter to sip at her tea.

"You come into my home after all this time and the first thing you do is yell at your sister?"

"Mam…"

"Well you look good. How was the flight?"

"Ma—"

"Tom, you're approaching this situation as if you're expecting a fight. I told you it was more than fine that you come visit. If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have offered." She paused. "Trust me."

Their bags were set down and Sybil rocked Isla now, both of them staring as this continued to unfold. "Hello, Sybil dear," Helen finally said, her voice soft and sweet like a song.

"Hi, ma'am," she tried. Though she wished to smile, Sybil felt small in her mother-in-law's presence and she couldn't help but to glance to the floor.

"Helen," Mrs. Branson corrected. "And who is this beauty?" she asked, reaching outward for the child Sybil held in her arms.

Her action had Sybil coming to life. Suddenly her posture was corrected and she immediately looked to Isla to gauge the child's reaction. Already the little girl was smiling at the woman she had yet to officially meet. Before Sybil could change this fact, Helen had grabbed for Isla and very happily accepted the child's weight upon her own hip. In absence of her daughter, Sybil moved to stand directly beside Tom, her side flush with his own. Feeling her close, Tom wished to have her closer and asked that she comply with a gentle hand to her hip. Sybil obliged, the two of them standing as a single unit while Isla and her grandmother shared a moment.

"Isla Grace," Sybil gave. "Branson, of course. Isla Grace Branson."

Tom looked to her, wishing his smile could rid her of the anxiety she was currently feeling. Meanwhile Helen paid them little attention, turning all of her energy toward the baby in her arms and the way Isla now smiled up at her.

"Tommy, she's got your coloring," she stated, still not removing her eyes from the child.

"Aye…"

"And thankfully Sybil's everything else," she offered up once more, this time more dryly. "She's beautiful."

The comment had Tom poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek, biting back a smart comment of his own. All the while Sybil was concentrating on her breathing, remembering the last time she'd stood in this kitchen with Mrs. Branson and how the older woman had said the very same thing. The child was once again back in her arms and for a moment Sybil blinked, wondering if any of what she had just seen had actually happened.

Helen returned to her task near the stove. The apron she had on was barely touched, signaling to Tom that his mother planned to spend the rest of her afternoon performing similar functions. "Are you going to stand there all day, or…?"

Sybil looked to Tom. He shared her glance before returning his attention to his mother. "We, I…"

"Have you eaten?"

Sybil shook her head. "We were going to grab something once we got in," Tom explained for them.

"Isla needs her nap so—"

Mrs. Branson smiled sweetly at Sybil. "Tom, put your things in your old room. Sybil, darling, there are leftovers in the fridge. Far better than anything you two could ever waste your money on downtown."

Tom sighed out. "Thanks, mam," he gave before placing a kiss to Sybil's cheek and disappearing down the hall with their things.

Without her boyfriend, Sybil stood still for what she was sure was far too many minutes. She hadn't noticed but Katie Grace was still in the kitchen and now approached Sybil and Isla wearing a different kind of smile. "My mam's right," she began. "She is beautiful…"

Sybil willingly gave her daughter away once more. "Oh, thank you."

"Here, why don't you make yourself something to eat and I'll watch her for a bit. I love babies," she commented.

Helen looked up. "I am in no hurry to be a grandmother, Katie," she reminded. Sybil, who stood hunched over the open refrigerator, did her best to ignore the comment. Such a wish was fruitless. As Helen turned to address her own declaration, Tom appeared again, this time without his jumper or his shoes. He had only been home mere minutes at this point and already he were claiming the space as his own.

"How old is Isla, Tom?" Helen asked. Sybil and Tom shared a glance. It was difficult if not impossible to read whether or not Helen Branson was playing a game.

When Tom did not speak up, Sybil did. "She turned one last week."

"Ahh, so you were pregnant that morning in church when you stood before the Lord and said your prayers?"

Tom sighed. "Well when you put it that way, Ma…"

"I'm not complaining," Helen shrugged. "I suppose I'd prefer a grandbaby than a dead son." Another glance was shared by Tom and Sybil. "Is that why you were leaving then? Should I thank Sybil?"

"Ma'am, err...Helen," Sybil corrected. "Tom made his own decisions against going North. It had nothing to do with–"

"Syb…"

"He didn't know. Well, we didn't know. We were going to leave because we wanted to. I had to get out of here and Tom had given up on going North—"

"We don't talk about war in this home, Sybil," Helen stated matter of factly. Her eyes only barely narrowed, showing her vow to remain strong despite the pain she was feeling and would always feel.

"Mam, she—"

"It's just important to me that you know that Tom had made up his mind without me," Sybil stated.

"Is it so bad to think that a woman changes a man, Sybil?" Helen propositioned.

No, Sybil thought. In a way, she knew that was exactly what had happened — what she had done. Tom acknowledged this everyday, usually with a kiss placed to her collarbone in appreciation. She rejected the thought. Tom was merely able to be himself around her, and she demanded that type of truth from the moment they'd met in the bookshop.

"Sybil…" Katie Grace said, standing up. "Isla's…"

The response instead came from Tom. "I've set out her crib already," he explained, referring to the old wooden structure his mother kept in a back closet for when they had company. "Her blanket's on my bed. Just cover her up…" Tom's voice trailed off when he saw the way his sister looked at him with bright eyes. "Here, I can just do it—"

"No, I got her," Katie assured, bringing herself back to reality. What Tom missed was the way Katie was amazed at her brother's knowledge. Not once did either Branson woman ever expect Tom to have a child, much less one where he'd be actively involved in the child's life and very in love with her mother as well.

Katie was gone and once again Helen was moving around the kitchen to begin the task of boiling potatoes.

"Do you need help?" Sybil asked. " I'd be more than happy to—"

"I don't see any wedding rings," Helen commented casually.

Tom sighed. "No, you don't. Brilliant observation, Ma…"

"I know for a fact that is not you being bold, Tommy," she reprimanded.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Branson—"

"Helen," she corrected, hopefully for the last time.

Sybil forced a tight-lipped smile before forging on. "Sorry, Helen," she repeated. "We'll get married, of course—"

"Of course? Well if it were that simple, it would have happened by now, no?"

"We just thought that it was a bit silly to rush such a thing—"

"Well you certainly rushed having a family!"

Sybil blinked her eyes shut for several moments. "I'm going to marry your son. When it happens, we want you to be there but I'm not going to plan a ceremony just to settle everyone else's consciences. I know I love him and I have never doubted he feels the same way about me. If a ring or a document is what convinces others that we love one another and are happy with the family we've created, I'm not sure I have time for those people in my life."

Tom had already reached for a bottle of stout from the fridge. The black bottle brought a smile to his lips for more than one reason, the strongest being that he knew the beverage was purchased specifically in preparation for his arrival. He laughed before taking a swig of the liquid, the sound declaring that Sybil had absolutely won that round against his mother.

Helen must have agreed because her eyes did not scold him. "Tá géim sa chailleach fós!" she gave instead.

Tom smiled, pulled his oblivious girlfriend in for a kiss to her cheek, then went to the sink to help his mother. Though Sybil was never happy to be left out of a conversation, she was proud that Tom's secondary tongue was just as sharp as it once was. Occasionally, he'd say things to Isla, things Sybil imagined he could only convey in gaeilge because this was how they were delivered to him. For every sentiment Isla received, Sybil learned their meaning. All she knew now was that they'd come too far for Tom to allow his mother to say something insensitive. She made a mental note to ask Tom for a more exact translation later, settling on the idea that her words must have been kind to prompt Tom's help.

"I set sheets out on the sofa for you, Tommy. I'm sorry we don't have another room but—"

"Mam, you're kidding, right?"

"I most certainly am not!"

"You got a new mattress for my room," he pointed with his paring knife. In his room, where the too-small bed he and Sybil once made love on used to sit, now existed a queen-sized mattress.

"For guests," Helen explained. "That's not your room anymore. Besides, you are not married. You know the rules…"

"Well I hate to disappoint you, but Sybil and I share a bed back in New York…"

"I'm sure you do. But we're not in New York. This is my home, Tommy. If your father were here, he'd say the same thing."

"So I'm supposed to allow Sybil and Isla to stay in a room without me? That hardly seems fair."

"Will you be paying for me to board you?" Helen quipped. "No? Then I'd say it's quite fair. Besides, that sofa in the front room is new as well. I think you'll find it quite comfortable…"

Tom sighed. He turned back to Sybil and mouthed a simple apology. The skinless potato he held in his hand was tossed into the nearby pot of water, causing the liquid to splash out and sizzle into steam atop the hot stove.

~!~

It was rare for Sybil and Tom to be afforded a minute alone. Somehow in a situation that was new to them, Isla remained sound asleep for her afternoon nap allowing them time to read on the sofa in the front room. This was the piece of furniture that replaced the couch Sybil and Tom spent their first night together on. It was just as comfortable, but only Tom would be able to test the bed that was folded beneath. That is, of course, if Sybil was planning on following the rules, to which Tom was still unsure whether or not that was the case. Night, he imagined, would follow soon and bring with it a more clear answer.

Tom wore his glasses. In one hand he held the spine of the novel he was currently reading, while the other hand rested on Sybil's feet while they laid in his lap. With her back against the arm of the couch, Sybil also read. Together they looked rather domestic, hiding the way Sybil bit her lip behind the pages of her book, while the heel of her foot dug into the tender skin of Tom's thigh.

Feeling her ministrations, Tom dropped his book to his lap and looked to her. "Syb…"

"What?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Stop, love…"

Sybil quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

Tom sighed out too. "That's a guilty smile if I've ever seen one."

Sybil tossed her book to the nearby coffee table. "I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

Without warning Tom lunged toward Sybil, his hands tickling at her sides causing her to giggle while she thrashed beneath him. She did her best to ward off his advances, while also giving in to everything he was doing. It had been hours since he'd touched her and it was weird to be back in Dublin and to exist with a sense of modesty separating them.

Tom was laughing now too, with his knees straddling Sybil while his hands and lips assaulted her skin. Her body was on fire with him on top of her and when he unpinned her hands from her sides he felt her instantly reaching for his face to bring him down to kiss her.

"Mmmm," she moaned through it. "We've been here several hours and that's the first kiss you've given me," she commented honestly.

Tom's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry…"

Sybil let out a cackle. "It's fine. It's just different, you know? Last time I was here I was so nervous...now we have a baby."

Tom smirked. "We do have a baby," he drawled, all before leaning in to taste her once more.

"Hey," Sybil tried, stilling him if only for a moment. He must have felt how moved she was by all of this because his breath hitched while he waited for her words. "I love you."

Tom smiled, unable to hide how her words, old news by now, still made him feel so electric. "I love you too, Syb."

They kissed again, once and then several times until it seemed as if they never fully detached. Traveling to Dublin was not meant to be a true vacation, but neither were complaining that it was currently giving them time to feel young again. It had been months since the two were allowed to just enjoy one another like this. Usually, to accommodate work and school and Isla, sex was rushed. It was exciting only because both often instigated in places that were not their bedroom. Symbolically, all of their intimate moments together had been rushed, and it was nice, although odd, to be able to finally slow down and experience intimacy with clothing separating their skin.

Tom teased this line with a hand that traveled under Sybil's shirt where his fingertips stroked the taut muscle near her rib cage. He remembered falling asleep that night so many years ago with his hand pressed to this very spot. Even then he did not know the strength Sybil carried in her small frame.

Feeling breathless, Sybil was forced to detach but allowed her forehead to rest against Tom's. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. "Your mum isn't too fond of me."

"I don't know about that. She said you were feisty," he recounted, giving Sybil the translation she craved earlier.

"Maybe, but I know she thinks I'm some dumb, loose English girl...she feels bad for me as if I didn't have a choice in loving you and really, that's so offensive to who you are. You're her son."

Tom kissed Sybil, wishing to banish all of the hurtful things she was uncovering. His relationship with his mother since his father's passing was certainly a sensitive one and it seemed all the more so when falling from Sybil's swollen lips.

"I'm sorry," she revealed finally with a hand pushing back at the frizzy curls around her face. "We don't have to talk about it…I just want her to like me."

"I do like you, Sybil, and I'd like you even more if you weren't allowing my son to take advantage of you on my sofa." At the sound of her voice, Sybil and Tom looked to Helen. She stood underneath the arch that separated this room from the hallway. Only Tom knew his mother's words were carefully chosen, meant to further emphasize that she did not believe his relationship with Sybil was one of equals.

The two did not disconnect in the way they would have had it been Martha or Anna or anyone else who could have found them in a similar state. With them, and Sybil and Tom knew this from firsthand experience, such a reaction happened quickly and with an edge of comedy. Here, it was slow, and Tom made deliberate action to remove his hand slowly from Sybil's shirt so as to not expose her further. Together they sat up and when they did, Helen smiled before walking away.

Shortly thereafter Isla cried out, causing each parent to now move with purpose and temporarily forget how the place they once called home was feeling more and more foreign with each passing moment.

~!~

The roast Mrs. Branson was making was for a dinner that would feed far more than the four occupants of the house. With Isla in bed for the night, Sybil and Tom helped to finish the meal and then set the table.

"You need two more place settings," Katie commented while she moved through the dining room.

At hearing this, Tom raised his head. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," she paused. "Nula's coming…"

"And?" He waited for it.

"Dylan," she stated, finally revealing her boyfriend's name. This was not the same boy she had dated when Tom was in prison, but a friend she had made working at the floral shop near the docks. His family had moved to Dublin from County Mayo after his father received a position with the Dublin Gardai. That was all Tom knew of him, and honestly all he hoped to ever know.

With Katie Grace gone again, Sybil gauged Tom's disposition. She sighed out before approaching the situation delicately. "Don't give her a hard time, alright? She's a smart girl. She had enough sense to get rid of the last one when he spoke poorly of you. Besides, my grandmother put you through the ringer and how did that make you feel?"

"Proud, honestly. She loves you as much as I love you and I had no problem proving myself to her."

Sybil put her hands to her hips in quiet admonishment. "It didn't hurt your feelings?"

"She insisted I sleep in the same bed with you, love. My feelings were hardly hurt," he quipped, earning him a swat to the shoulder before Sybil returned to the kitchen to begin plating the food.

When the doorbell rang, it was Tom who answered — or at least he attempted to. Katie beat him to the foyer but was disappointed to see Nula at the door. To her, the woman was a friend, but she felt distanced from her after her father's passing. Katie had always had somewhat of a crush on Aidan and after his murder, she only felt further disconnect with his mother. There was also possibility of jealousy on Katie's part, a feeling Helen experienced as well; Nula and Tom were always close, and made all the more so when Tom was in prison. Though Nula and Helen were best friends there were certainly things left unsaid between the women.

Sybil remained in the dining room while Nula and Tom stood at the door. It was better this way, especially as the two slipped into their native tongue. Even so, Sybil would have been happy to overhear a conversation she couldn't quite understand; she knew what Nula meant to Tom and would forever revere the woman for visiting Tom in prison when she could not.

"Syb!" Tom called out. The doorbell rang once more and Katie Grace flew past the pair to greet Dylan. "Love, this is Nula. Nula, this is—"

"Sybil, hello," Fionnula greeted, extending her hand to shake Sybil's.

Sybil smiled too. It was all she felt she was good at here. She found that when she opened her mouth, her thoughts and opinions were met with quiet disapproval. "Hi. I've...hello," she settled with a small laugh.

Before the two could exchange any more pleasantries, Helen entered, carrying with her a plate of greens. "Did he tell you about the babe?"

Nula paused. "Ah, yes!" she practically clapped, dismissing the answer the rest of the home was clearly expecting. "Where is Miss Isla?"

She hugged her son's best friend in official congratulations and when the two separated she did all she could to force a small smile in Sybil's direction. Her expression was returned but only momentarily. Sybil excused herself to grab the rest of the food, not wanting to inconvenience anyone anymore than she already felt she had. Helen followed, silently declaring that for the first and possibly last time in their lives, both women were on the same team.

When Sybil returned the table was nearly set and Dylan and Tom were in the middle of their introduction. As they sat down for supper, Sybil felt the way Tom couldn't stop from staring at the younger boy, and made no task of hiding that fact.

"Tom," she finally whispered. "Enough."

"He's been here five minutes and he hasn't thanked my mother for the invitation. He's barely acknowledged you or Nula—"

"Well maybe he's nervous. None of you make it easy to be an outsider in this home."

Tom wished to but he stopped himself from responding. Napkins were folded into laps and Helen made quick work of beginning to say grace. As they now did at home, Sybil too made the sign of the cross before clasping her hands in prayer. It was now her who received confused glares and she thought only of their parish back in New York and how everyone, lacking the knowledge of the religion Sybil was so weakly raised on, was so welcoming there.

"Sybil, I didn't know you were religious," Helen commented with a smile.

Sybil went to speak but was stopped by Tom's response. "And if she weren't, what was she supposed to do, Ma? Not say grace?"

"Well I don't know," Helen stated, showing that for as wise as the woman was, she was still so clearly marked by the Irish Catholic world she lived in. "So are you saying she's not?"

"I'm not speaking for her. She can do that on her own just fine."

"I'm Catholic, ma'am," Sybil said sweetly. Then, in a way that only she was capable of, she gave a more accurate depiction of the truth. "Well, I am now. I was raised—"

"Welp, lovey, doesn't really matter what you were raised, just so long as you believe what you believe now!" Nula drawled, causing even Sybil to smirk. Meanwhile, Katie Grace noticed the tension brewing between her mother and the rest of the dinner guests. In an attempt to avoid this, she nudged at Dylan's shoulder. "Why don't you tell everyone how you've been accepted into St. Andrews?"

Sybil's eyes widened. "Like the Scottish university? Or the academy in Cambridge?"

Tom looked to Sybil, his mouth dropped open but for a different reason. "There's two?"

"The Scottish school, ma'am," Dylan said, echoing Sybil's manners from earlier.

"It's a really great school," Sybil commented. "I hope you're considering accepting!"

Tom sat forward. "And what will you do when you're in Scotland and Katie's here?"

"I imagine the same thing you and Sybil did when you two were apart."

Tom's eyes glared at Katie, reprimanding her for sharing a story he hadn't even properly disclosed . "So you will stay here then?"

Katie shrugged. "For a bit, I suppose. But I'd go eventually."

"Eventually?" Tom asked. "You're not married—"

"And you are?" Katie spat back.

Tom nodded - a truce. "What will you do there?"

"Go to school, I hope."

"At St. Andrews?" Helen asked. Tonight was one of changing alliances, with Helen now standing firmly next to her son while he interrogated his baby sister. These were questions she was all too tired to ask.

"Well, yeah," Katie shrugged. She had just finished putting another serving of fish on her plate before she sat back once more. "Why is this such a big deal?"

"Because there are great schools here."

"Here in Dublin or here in Ireland?" she asked with a raised, slightly shrill voice.

Tom paused. "Dad would want you to go to UCD."

"Dad would want me to do a lot of things, Tom. He'd want a lot of things from you too, you know…"

Sybil reached forward to still Tom's tapping fingers. He was angry and her touch often did wonders to bring him back down to her. "Tom—"

"What would he want from me, Katie? Say it!"

"I think you've given him a lot of what he'd want, Tom," Nula responded calmly. "I don't think it's beneficial for either of you to waste this time together bickering. I will say that's one thing your father would _not_ want," she emphasized. "Besides, we've only just said grace. Save the immature behavior for after our plates have been cleared, yeah?"

Helen, previously miffed at her friend, reached across the table to rub at Nula's hand. Sybil watched in the way it was taken graciously, patted on by Nula in acknowledgement of their strong relationship. Helen had detached for awhile after her husband died, and continued to do so even now with her children fully grown. Nula, was not granted his luxury and her presence in Tom and Katie Grace's lives was a welcomed one. Helen reminded herself of this when she thought back to their interaction at the door earlier where Nula bounced Isla on her hip, ignorant to everything Tom disclosed from his mother and so willingly gave to her.

"Well," Dylan breathed out. "I support Katie in whatever she wants to do. And I didn't mean anything by my comment earlier. I only meant to say that strong people manage to spend time apart without it breaking them."

Helen nodded. She was coming around to Dylan, liking the boy more every time he came into her home. He had this luxury, one Sybil was not afforded. Because of this, she doubted she could make it into the matriarch's good graces before their departure next week.

"What would you study?" Sybil tried.

"History, I think. World history."

"Syb's in medical school," Tom explained before sipping at his pint. "Top of her class." Sybil blushed and looked down. Long ago Tom told her that he'd never tire of discussing her accomplishments and in hearing him do that very thing in front of his family, she finally believed him. "It's a big commitment but I'm sure you'd be able to make it work."

"Well, an undergraduate degree is much different than medical school."

"It is," Tom smirked. "You're right. And she does it all while being a mum too. So I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Tom, I hear you're writing?"

"Aye," he nodded, directing his attention back to Nula. They had discussed all of this in their letters, correspondence Sybil and Helen had yet to learn about. Even so, she found it a more amenable topic of conversation. "Not as much as I'd like to, but it'll do for now."

"And you're living where?"

"In a fancy flat high above Central Park," Katie Grace taunted.

Tom looked to her. "Yeah, I do. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had to leave, Katie. People in this town thought I killed my best friend..." Sybil immediately looked to Tom. This was a fact she had not learned before now.

"Well how hard your life must be—"

"It is hard, Katie! I was in prison for fuck's sake!"

"Tom!" Helen admonished.

"I know. You were in prison and then you left! So you were gone for a year and now you've been gone for almost two because you decided to leave. That was a choice you made," Katie emphasized. "I didn't have a choice! We stayed here." She paused. "We stayed and you left."

Tom sighed, doing so with so much force that he nearly fell back in his chair. "Is that what this is? You're angry that I left?"

"Yeah, I am."

Dylan and Sybil watched carefully on, waiting for the next move, wondering if it would be one of attempted ceasefire or escalation.

"Well I was angry that you and Mum didn't come to see me. I was angry that I sent you letters too and you didn't respond to them. I've been angry since Dad died and I guess I'm still angry. Okay?" The table was silent. Everyone sat still, waiting for Katie to respond. She didn't. Instead she wore eyes that glazed over, cast on the beams of light her glass of water cast on the tablecloth below. "Okay?" Tom demanded. His voice was loud, booming. Isla cooed against her mother, knowing her father utilized a similar volume when he was making her laugh.

Katie did not look up. "Okay," she shrugged.

The meal carried on, but not at first. When it drifted back into motion, conversation only existed between Helen, Nula, Sybil, and Dylan. The four of them were an unlikely pair, but they actually managed to find easy talking points. Nula, Sybil found, had a quick tongue and often made everyone laugh. Helen worked well off her best friend's energy and became more open by the time she finished her meal. The younger pair then discussed their culinary affinity and discovered that Dylan's older brother had married one of Mr O'Connor's nieces and the two had just had a child together.

Though Sybil worried about Tom and spent most of her time at the table with her hand upon his knee, she knew that in carrying the conversation, she was helping them out. Despite Tom's prior superiority he now felt relentlessly vulnerable and was surprised to find that what he imagined would be his greatest weakness in Dublin - his love for Sybil and the child they created - was what was currently allowing him to sit wordless, a stranger in the same home that raised him.

~!~

After dinner, Helen got up immediately to put on the kettle for tea. Nula moved as if she had a role to play as well, collecting plates and utensils to inevitably leave nothing but crumbs atop the table. Dylan offered to help with dishes but was soon pulled away by Katie, the blonde tossing a soft "thanks" over her shoulder. A similar sign of gratitude followed, but Dylan gave his more apologetically. He was playing the same game Sybil was, waging what was preferred: supporting the person he loved or working to impress that same person's family. Both were somewhat speechless upon discovering those ideas were mutually exclusive.

When the front door slammed shut, Sybil stood. A newly awake and very hungry Isla was on her hip and the child played with her mother's cross necklace, trying to put the gold chain into her mouth.

"Sybil, dear, stay for tea won't you?"

Sybil smiled. "I have to feed Isla and try to put her down again and then I'd love to," she accepted sweetly.

Tom was already gone, disappearing without word or production, leaving Sybil to follow with a heavy sigh.

Inside their room, Sybil made quick work of undressing Isla. The child giggled up at her mother while Sybil effortlessly changed her nappy and put her into another onesie. It was nearing winter but like Tom, Isla was always so warm. She wondered if she'd allow Isla to sleep in bed beside her with her father banished to the front room. Such a thought brought a chill to Sybil, awakening her skin with goosepimples as she realized tonight would be the first night she'd sleep away from Tom since their reunion.

"Are you going to ask?" Tom's voice brought Sybil out of her reverie.

The brunette stood and cradled her daughter in her arms. "Are you allowed to be in here while she eats?" Sybil asked quite seriously, causing Tom to smirk. That was not what he was coaxing from her, but the change in topic was definitely a deliberate one.

Tom played along. "Do you want a blanket, would that make you feel better?"

"No. I want to go back to New York, Tom. Honestly. That's what would make me feel better."

Tom's mouth turned in sadness. He sat down beside Sybil, his large hands pressed gently to her thighs while Isla began to suck at her skin. Sybil kept her eyes on their daughter and forced a smile. "I'm looking forward to getting her on formula," she admitted. "This is so draining…"

Tom reached out for her again, moving his hands from her thighs up to where she held Isla firmly against her. "I'm sorry, Syb…"

"I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to go back to New York, I—"

"Why?" Tom asked, sitting up once more. "I do. I'm not angry at you for saying that."

"Well you should be. This is your home and these people are your family and I came here wanting nothing more than to love it. To love them. I only ever saw a small corner of your world before your world became my world...our world. Regardless of what you say, this part of you matters too."

"And if I never meet your parents? Will that matter? Will I be missing out on some part of you if I never meet your mum and dad or your sisters? Will that be okay?"

Sybil shrugged and turned her attention back to Isla. "I guess it will have to be."

Tom stood and moved to his suitcase to rummage through his things. Behind him he could hear Sybil rustling, no doubt shifting Isla to burp the child before placing her in her crib. "It was only a few letters," he sighed out.

Hearing him, Sybil looked up. Isla was in her crib now and Sybil finally felt she could give Tom her full attention. "I figured…"

"Why don't you care?"

"I do care! I mean, of course I do, Tom! I wish you had told me you were writing Nula but it is what it is. I can't change it now. Besides, I'd say your mother is much more offended than I am."

Tom bit his lip. "You think?"

Sybil smiled, always so attracted to his unexpected oblivion. "Yes, love. Very much so." She inhaled sharply, ready to admit to her own faults. "Anyway, I can't be mad. If I were mad at you, that'd be hypocritical...I sent your mum money, Tom."

He stepped back. "What?"

"I was worried and we hadn't heard from them so I called Mr. O'Connor and the reception was shoddy and we only spoke for a minute or two but he didn't do much to settle my fears so I sent money."

"How much?"

"A couple grand."

"Syb!"

"My grandmother wanted to! And I wanted to too! If you weren't so damn stubborn you'd agree it was a good idea!"

"Well I am stubborn, alright? That wasn't your place!"

"Oh yeah? And what's my place, Tom?"

In hearing his unfortunate choice of wording, Tom sighed and took a step back. "I'm sorry…"

"I am too," Sybil agreed, now holding her arms tightly crossed over her body. "I was just trying to help…"

"I know," he nodded, all before pulling her in and placing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I shouldn't have written to Nula…"

"I don't mind that you did, honestly," she shrugged, causing the two to separate but also allowing them to get a better view of one another. "I just don't think she likes me very much."

"Well my mum seems to be coming around. Maybe Nula will follow."

"Your mother is hardly coming around, Tom. You'll still be sleeping out in the parlor tonight and I'll be in here. Alone."

"With Isla," he reminded.

"Did you ever talk about me?"

Tom paused. His brow furrowed and he took a step into her once more. "What?"

"When you wrote Nula. Did you ever talk about me?"

"Of course I did. That was a lot of our conversation. You and Isla."

"She's angry with you. You didn't marry an Irish girl. I mean, that's it, right?"

"It's not…" Tom sighed out, running a frustrated hand through his already unruly hair. "It's not that you're not Irish, Syb. It's just that—"

"I'm English?"

Tom shrugged. "Well, yeah…"

"Does she know? I mean, does she know I was the girl who started the argument that got her son killed?"

With tight lips, Tom nodded. "Yeah, love, she does." Then: "Everyone does, really. It was in the papers. Varying accounts of the murder."

"They all hate me…"

"Anyone who hates you doesn't realize what kind of a world we live in. You didn't get Aidan killed nor did you start the argument. They approached you, Syb. They picked that fight and knew how they wanted to end it before you ever talked back. If they hate anyone it's me. They're mad because I ran away. I thought my mum and Katie Grace would be happy I was able to get out of here, but apparently I messed that up too."

"They can dislike me. But I need them to be on your side, Tom. I can't be the reason you and your family disagree."

"They are on my side, Syb. And you're not the reason we disagree."

"You're a good man, Tom Branson. I love the person you are and the father you are to Isla. But you're a shite liar," she quipped, causing both of them to his hands now intertwined with hers, Sybil had a newfound energy. "I'll say it again, Tom. They can dislike me but I need them to be on your side. That's important to me. It's everything..."

"Love, they can think what they want, alright? And yeah, you are a big part of why I left and if anything, they should be happy. Beyond how happy you make me, I'm alive because of you. I've made something of myself. I am who I am because you've loved me."

"Tom…"

"At the end of the day, they can't dislike you and still love me. It doesn't work like that anymore, Syb. We're a team. If they're going to be on my side, they have no choice but to be on your side too."

~!~

Something about being back here, in his hometown, had Tom craving a cigarette. He had picked up the unfortunate habit when he was fourteen, just a year after his father's death when his anger toward the world was still so raw. When he arrived to New York, it was something he easily let go of. In having Sybil in his life and in wanting nothing but the best for their daughter, Tom quit.

Sybil was still here but she was taking a shower now and Isla had been asleep in her bassinet for several hours. When the two were meant to be having tea with Helen and Nula, they instead fell asleep and when they awoke, the kettle was empty and Helen had gone out to the front room to knit. Nearby the local news sounded softly, flickering light on and off into the parlor with every changing story.

"Sorry, Ma…" Tom let out. "Sybil and I haven't slept in almost twenty-four hours and—"

Helen looked up to her son. She wore thick rimmed glasses and a tight, but wide, smile. "It's fine, Tom."

He sighed out. "It wasn't intentional."

"I haven't seen Nula in awhile. It gave us time to catch up. Besides, your sister practically marched out before. You accidentally falling asleep pales in comparison to how inappropriate her behavior was."

"Where do you think she went?"

Mrs. Branson returned her attention to her stitchwork. "Dylan has an apartment."

"In Dublin?"

"No, in County Cork," she sassed.

"He can afford that?"

"Well, no, but his parents can."

Tom took a step back. "Do we like this kid?"

"He's hardly a kid, Tom. And yes, I think I do. I know your father would and that's what I keep reminding myself of. He always wanted you and Katie to live comfortable lives. You know how hard he worked. If he could have done more, he would. But he couldn't...not until his death, anyway. But that money has certainly dwindled by now and since you left, I haven't been working. Am I happy that Katie is being taken care of by a boy that seems to truly have feelings for her? Yes. Very happy. I can't watch after her forever."

"And me?"

"Your father passed and you decided you didn't need me anymore. You didn't need anyone." She paused. Her next words were so simple but they carried with them immeasurable weight. "Then Sybil came along and that seemed to have changed."

"I may have acted like I didn't need anyone but—"

"You made some poor decisions, Tom. I tried time and time again to get through to you but you wouldn't let me in. Aside from Aidan and the boys, Katie Grace was the only one you talked to and even then it was all about her wellbeing. After awhile I had no choice but to stop pushing."

"You can push now," he said, almost joking. "I'm better now."

"Right," Helen gave before pursing her lips. "Because of Sybil."

"You know, Ma, I don't know what you want me to say. I can't apologize for the way I feel. I know I was a shite son and I'm sorry I hurt you so many times—"

"I don't want an apology, Tommy. This is just something that is going to take time. I thought I'd have it figured out by now but that girl is sleeping in my home and I still don't know how I feel about it."

Tom forced a smile. For a moment he thought of taking a seat next to his mother but he soon calculated that situation would be much more difficult to escape than his current one. Without word he went to the door and left. When he stepped outside he was surprised to find Nula sitting on his stoop. She looked up to him and smiled, extending her pack of fags his way. He smirked back and tapped at his back pocket before retrieving his own. He tapped the box into his palm and then quickly lit one. As he sat back and let out his first drag, Tom felt oddly confident (and somehow slightly disturbed) at how natural the task seemed. It helped that nicotine now pulsed into his lungs, giving him courage and a slight buzz.

"Does Sybil know you're out here?"

"Are you asking if she knows I'm out here or if she knows I smoke?"

"Well I know she doesn't know you smoke. She doesn't peg me as the type of girl to allow that sort of thing."

"I still smoked when I first met her," Tom tried to explain.

Nula grinned. "She changed you, Tommy. It's okay."

His eyes narrowed. "Is it?"

"Well isn't it?" she shot back just as easily.

"I'm a better person now," he assured. "I'm a person I think my Dad would actually be proud of."

"Oh stop," she urged, pushing at his knee. "Your father would be proud of you even if you were still in prison. You used guns, he used words...there's something to be said for both."

"He hated violence."

"Yeah, but he believed in standing up for what you believed in. And he was motivated by his love for his family and friends. Your intentions were the same. If you had gone, I'd be saying that in present tense."

"If I had gone, I'd be dead," Tom corrected.

Nula looked to him, studying him for a moment. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so. Even if I did come back...no one survives that." Nula looked ahead. Tom knew she didn't have a response but he felt his mind following her to the next destination. "I think about him everyday, you know," he stated simply. "I miss him a lot."

She nodded, still unable to look at him but now for different reasons. Tom felt it too, the prick of warm tears surrounding his eyes. "Me too…"

"Everyone has a lot of opinions, you know? When he was here, Aidan had more opinions than anyone I knew. A lot of them were ridiculous and he made me laugh and we got into a lot of arguments but I still liked hearing them. And I wonder what he'd think now."

"Of you?"

"Well, yeah. Of me and Sybil...Isla," he added.

"That's what I meant. They're you now, Tom…"

"You don't…" Tom stopped himself. All those times Nula visited him in prison and he was never able to discuss this with her. Now, the two sharing cigarettes like teenagers, it seemed simple. "You know Aidan and Sybil weren't—"

Nula snorted out a laugh. "Of course I know. Sybil seems to be too smart of a girl to go for Aidan. She's too kind. She can love a man like you, Tommy, but she couldn't love Aidan."

"But he knew her. I mean, they weren't friends. It's...it's complicated. He didn't understand it then. But he knew that I loved her and he was doing his best to support that. And when those UVFs approached him, I know he was protecting Sybil. And I know it doesn't sound right but that means a lot to me. My best friend was protecting a girl he barely knew and didn't like and he was doing it because he knew what she meant to me. You know, people can say what they want about him but he's one of the best people I've ever know. And Sybil knows that and she makes sure I talk about him. She talks about him too...and she's really sorry."

"I tried to understand it myself," Nula admitted, sounding as if even she was surprised by her words. "I was angry at you and I hated Sybil. I didn't know her. I didn't know her story and I really didn't believe that she loved you. How could I after all they've done? But slowly it came together. Katie Grace helped a bit. When the boys came back, a few of the things they said made me think. And then one day it all made sense. I made up my mind...I couldn't hate Sybil. Aidan wouldn't have stood up for her if he didn't believe she was special to you. He's my son and I miss him every single day," she revealed, now choking up. "But I know why he did it. Like you said, he was always better than everyone thought and for whatever reason, he let Sybil see that. He loved you, Tom. And he wouldn't want me to be mad at you so that's why I started visiting you in Mountjoy. And that's why I can't hate Sybil now. I don't think he'd want that."

"She's...I know you two will never be friends. I don't expect that and I never have but—"

"You're in love?" she asked, letting out a slight laugh that was created mostly to erase her sadness. "I know that."

"Please don't say it like that…"

"Like what?" she defended.

"Like you're sorry for me."

"I'm not sorry for you, Tommy. You have a sweet little family. You've gotten out of here. You're doing okay."

"I am doing okay, Nu! I have a job doing something I like and I'm really good at. I have someone who loves and appreciates me and we have the most beautiful little girl. I'm more than okay. I can't apologize for that."

"Did I ask you to?"

"You want to," he reasoned. "You can say you've come to terms with Aidan's passing and I think I believe you. I want to believe you because I think you want that to be your truth. Fine! I get it! But you're not okay with me being in America and you're certainly not okay with me being with an English girl."

"Are you then? Honestly, Tommy? Have you thought about it? You're quite literally sleeping with the enemy…"

"Girls like Sybil are not the enemy."

"She's far prettier than Thatcher," Nula retorted. "I'll give you that." Even amidst their tension the two shared a laugh.

"She doesn't believe all of that, you know. She believes what we believe, just without all the violence. And she made me see that it's all such bullshit anyway. She showed me that I have options."

"Exactly. There are hundreds of girls in this city that would love to be with you, Tom…"

"And hundreds of girls I have no interest in. Sybil's different, she's—"

"English! That's my point!"

Tom shook his head. "If she was Irish, you'd love her. Everyone does. It's impossible not too. She's unbelievably kind, Nu. She's thoughtful and caring and she doesn't judge. She listens and she's supportive and she's the best mum."

"She's certainly turned you soft."

"Maybe," Tom shrugged, dismissing what was most likely a jab. "Do you know I actually like myself? They don't teach us that. They only teach us to hate them."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do! I hated myself. I didn't care if I went to Belfast and died. I didn't care if someone killed me before then. I didn't have much to live for, Nula. I'm sorry, but it's the truth and then she came along and things changed. I didn't ask for it and if you asked me if I ever thought I'd fall for a British girl, I'd tell you you're crazy but I have...I did. She changed me and I'm thankful for that. I wish everyone else would be so appreciative…"

"I'm trying…"

"Well can you try harder? I'm sorry that this all seems so crazy but it's not going to change. I love her more than I ever thought was possible. I like our life and I plan on being with her until the day I die. It's simple, really."

Nula nodded. She took one last drag of her fag before pushing the moist paper stick down on to the concrete below. "Alright then," she resolved. She pushed off her knees to bring herself to her feet.

"Alright?" Tom asked, now looking up to her. He'd been here many times before, previously with Aidan by his side and with Nula's finger wagging, punishing her son and his best friend for their mischief.

"I'll try," she revealed simply. "Do I have any other choice? I love you, Tommy and you mean a lot to me because you meant the world to Aidan. He's not here so I have to watch out for you. That's how this works. It's a promise I make to him every time I go to the cemetery."

"Thank...thank you," he mumbled. "Just give her a chance, alright?"

"I already am giving her a chance. Who do you think got your mother to write you back? It certainly wasn't Katie Grace…"

Fionnula turned the door knob and immediately headed inside. Tom followed, the pair ascending the steps, carrying with them the faint smell of smoke. "What?"

"I made your mother write you. My boy isn't here and it's not fair that she ignore hers."

Silence filled the hallway and remained even after Nula and Tom reentered the flat. It occurred because Tom had nothing to say and stayed when Nula joined his mother in the nearby kitchen, both women now watching Tom as he moved toward his bedroom. Their judging eyes finally brought so many words to Tom's tongue, but he bit them back.

"Tom, I've turned off the telly, dear. The front room is all yours…"

Nula looked to her best friend then sipped at her tea to cover the smirk she wore. Not too long ago these women were young girls, Sybil's age and full of their own energy. Such things were lost as years progressed, leaving behind what could sometimes be considered subtly bitter comments.

"Can I get my things? Say goodnight to Sybil?"

"Give the girl a moment to get out of the shower, yeah?" Helen suggested.

Tom rolled his eyes, regretting the action halfway through its performance. "She's…" He stopped himself. "You know how children are made, yeah?" he mimicked.

Helen pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Nula gripped the counter, waiting for a fight. "Yes, I do," Mrs. Branson sassed sweetly. "Lots of sin, in your case."

Tom sighed out. His shoulders slumped too and he took a step back to retaliate. "That's really insensitive. That's your granddaughter, you know. I won't...that's a shite thing to say," he commented simply. He disappeared, thinking now of what Nula said and how he finally had several responses that would have been appropriate.

Inside his childhood bedroom, Sybil rolled her hair in a towel, doing her best to dry each curl without frizzing it. At seeing him she smiled but continued to look to the mirror. The pajamas she wore were much more modest than he was used to - flannel pants and a loose cotton t-shirt. Tom immediately stepped into the space behind Sybil, wrapping his arms around her midsection to cross over her tummy. In the shadow of the room, Isla slept soundly. Her presence had Tom whispering into Sybil's ear.

"Let's go," he mumbled into her neck before kissing the space below her ear. "Back to New York."

Sybil giggled. "That bad?"

"I don't know what she wants…"

Sybil threw her towel aside and tossed her hair up. The movement pushed Tom away but soon she turned back to him, wrapping her arms lazily around his neck. There she played with the hairs at his nape. "Your mother or Nula?"

"Well, both, really."

"I'm sorry…"

Tom's eyes narrowed in confusion. He was a bit hurt as well. "For what?"

"I'm not really making this trip easy, am I?"

"No," he dismissed quickly. "They're not. My mam knew what she was getting into when she extended the invitation…" His voice trailed off. "You know, she didn't want me to go to Belfast so I didn't go and now she's disappointed. She always wanted me to find a good girl and settle down and I've more than done that. She wanted grandchildren and I've given her that as well. It's never good enough."

"She just worries about you, Tom…"

"Are you on her side?"

Sybil paused. "I'm not even going to answer that because it's a ridiculous question."

He sighed. "You're right…"

"I can make myself scarce this weekend. I want to stop at O'Connors and I don't mind wasting time downtown if you want to spend some time with them."

"Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I told you, Tom, it's important to me that you have them in your life. If it's easier for them to spend time with you and Isla without me, then that's completely fine. That doesn't bother me."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Not much," Sybil shrugged. "I want Isla to know her grandmother and your culture is far more important than mine. Really, she's Irish more than anything else. She needs to feel a connection to this place…even if her parents don't."

"But I do," Tom admitted honestly.

Sybil nodded and looked to the floor. "Me too. And I don't want to."

"Why?"

She looked back to him, her eyes so wide Tom was nearly brought to tears by their size. "I almost lost you here."

Tom smirked. "No you didn't."

"I did. You could have been killed. And then you weren't and I still thought that maybe you wanted to leave."

"We were going to leave," he reminded.

"No," she negated. "Leave to go North. Without me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I put you in danger. Because me being with you did the same thing it's doing now."

"My mother and Nula are hardly UVF officers."

"They're just as scary," Sybil stated genuinely causing Tom to chuckle.

"Syb, love, just be you, okay? They're going to come around."

"And if they don't?"

Tom thought for a moment. "Then they don't. Then we don't ever have to come back here."

"You mean that?"

"If you want. Or we can come back and just stay somewhere else. You'll be a big doctor by then and you can pay for us to stay at one of those fancy new hotels downtown."

Sybil smirked. "Oh can I?" They laughed. Their mirth disappeared only when Sybil demanded a kiss from Tom. Both breathed in sharply, with noses squished in want while the two slowly detached. "I guess it's not going to help our case if you sneak in here tonight, huh?"

"Trust me, love, I've thought about it."

"I know," Sybil sighed out. "It's just the first night I'll be away from you and—"

"And I'm only in the front room. It's only a few hours. When I get up, we can make breakfast sandwiches, yeah?"

Sybil scrunched her nose upward in amusement. "You spoil me, Tom Branson."

"Hey," he countered, "it worked last time, didn't it?"

~!~

Sybil couldn't sleep and she spent the first hour alone in Tom's old room thinking about the last time they were here. Things had changed since then, and all for the better, but she still felt the way his hands explored her skin and how somehow through his own pain he managed to comfort her and keep her warm. She supposed it was silly to think the two would be given a second chance on their first night back.

The moments that followed, Sybil found herself carefully watching the clock on the wall. Each second passed and she wondered if Isla would wake. For a moment she wished for this to happen; she felt alone and wouldn't mind bringing Isla into bed with her. On the other hand, it was usually Tom who padded out of bed to grab their daughter, and he wasn't allowed to be here now to perform that task.

Eventually she sat up, not even sure she had done so at first. With her feet on the floor, she slowly stood. She did not plan to go out to Tom, but instead to grab a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen. If that happened to wake Tom, she wouldn't complain. If he kissed her tired eyelids and held her for awhile, she'd welcome those advances as well. How it was the two made it a full year apart, she was unsure.

She saw it in her head, how she'd tiptoe out of the room and immediately collide into Tom. She imagined he was missing her too and was unable to hold out any longer. Unfortunately she was only greeted with the hallway light and a house essentially void of noise.

This was not the case though. At the kitchen table, Helen sat reading a book. The light above was dimmed and a warm cup of tea sat idly by. Like Tom, she wore glasses and they fell to the bridge of her nose making Sybil believe that it was likely she'd been out here for quite some time. The sight of her had Sybil's body frozen, especially when the matriarch did not acknowledge her presence.

Finally: "There's tea," Helen managed. "I don't know if it'll keep you up but I've made plenty."

"Thank you," Sybil nodded softly. She poured herself a cup and then returned to the spot she previously stood. "Can't sleep?"

"I don't sleep much," Helen admitted.

Sybil let out a small laugh and looked away. "Maybe it's a mum thing. I used to love to sleep and I was so good at it but then I had Isla and I do it so infrequently I think I've convinced myself I don't enjoy it anymore."

"Tom loves to sleep."

"He does," Sybil giggled. "I'm jealous of him. He and Isla can just sleep and sleep."

"And we women just worry and worry…"

The air was still. Sybil pursed her lips. "We do," she agreed, all before sipping at her tea.

Helen took off her glasses and folded her hands over the spine of her book. She leaned forward, practically inviting Sybil to sit. When she did, she only continued to stare. Her eyes caught on the cross-necklace Sybil wore and the way the baby hairs around Sybil's face had begun to frizz the more they dried. She was, as she'd always said, really quite stunning. A lot of what her son did made no sense to Helen, but she understood his attraction.

"How did you and Tom meet, Sybil?"

"The bookshop. Mr. O'Connors," she added. "I worked there and Tom used to come in every week." When Helen did not speak, she forced a smile and continued. "I see a love of reading runs in the family. My family—"

"Where are they? Where are you from?"

It was clear to Sybil now that the things Tom told his mother about her were things that existed in the present. He did not speak of her past and he most likely did this to avoid discussion of his own. "London. Well, that's where I was raised. We have a home in the country too. That's where my Dad grew up." Helen smirked a looked away. "I know it seems silly but I'm not going to lie to you and act like my life before wasn't lavish and comfortable. That's where I come from but I don't feel connected to that world."

"And you left why?"

"I felt suffocated," she admitted earnestly. "I couldn't be who they wanted me to be."

"Are you happy here?"

"Here?"

"Well in New York. I guess you weren't happy here because you left…"

"I was happy here. I liked my life here. I love Dublin. This was just a halfway point for me."

"So you convinced Tom to leave?"

"No," she dismissed, slightly offended. "I told him I was leaving and he said he wanted to join me. Err…" Her voice trailed off. "Really, he asked me to come with him."

"And you thought you would? You knew him, what, a few weeks before you left?"

"Does it matter?"

Helen scoffed. "To me it does. I knew Tom's father for six years before we were married."

"Is our relationship not as valid because we fell in love more quickly?"

"It's valid, sure, but it lacks stability. Tom was in prison, Sybil. You've given up a very comfortable life to be with a man who can't give you those same things."

"That's your son…"

"And I love him and I always will. But—"

"But nothing," Sybil called out. "He's my best friend and we have a child together. I know for a fact you're not trying to convince me that I'm better than he is. That's rude and it completely discredits just how wonderful Tom is."

Helen sighed. "He's damaged, Sybil. For as much as he had to grow up, he's still very much the little boy I once brought to Belfast. Parts of him didn't come home with me that day. There are parts of him I haven't been able to get back."

"I...I'm sorry to say this, but I see those parts of him. I make him confront all of that and we work through it together. That's how a relationship works. I don't think that's anything against you and the home you provided for him, but maybe he did need to get away."

"Get away with you or go north?"

"You know, what did you want from him? What could he do to make you happy? Because it seems he can't win no matter what he does. Stop blaming him! He's hurting too!"

"I don't blame him, Sybil. I just doubt his ability to provide for you and Isla. I don't know how long he'll be able to do this. I wanted him to be a husband and father but I had given up on that a long time ago."

"Well he is," Sybil stated confidently. "He's the best boyfriend and he couldn't possibly be a better father. Again, I apologize if he hasn't showed you that but you haven't exactly been the most welcoming. How is he supposed to prove this to you if he feels like he can't even be himself?"

There was a beat of silence. "That's hard for a mother to hear."

"Yeah, well it's hard for me too. Tom means the world to me. I don't like watching him struggle. I didn't enjoy it here and it kills me that he's agonizing back in New York. He was so excited for this trip and he's done nothing but apologize to me the entire time, which, maybe I should be doing to him. I mean, I have. It's me, right? I'm the problem."

"Sybil, you're lovely, really…"

"Am I? Because I think if you truly believed that, you'd be happy for Tom. Really though, as a mother...and I can say this now because I am one, I can't imagine thinking someone who makes my child happy is not worthy. That's all I want for Isla. I want her safety and her health and her happiness. She has all of those things and she has them because her Daddy is selfless and hardworking. You've done a really great job with Tom. He's a good man. I'm sorry the life he has isn't the life you wanted for him but maybe it's time to step back and realize it's still a really good life."

Helen had no other option but to nod. She did so until the silence drowned out the tears Sybil wished to cry and the way the younger girl looked away to wipe at her tired eyes.

"Syb?"

Tom's voice appeared over Sybil's shoulder and almost had her crying harder. "Ma, what did you—"

"Nothing," Sybil dismissed as she brought herself to stand. "Thanks for the tea," she tried, smiling weakly.

Helen forced a smile too. She was ashamed and angry at herself for feeling this way. It was disheartening to realize that you were loving someone incorrectly - as if that were actually a concept anyone was capable of.

In Sybil's absence, Tom took a step in toward his mother. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, Tommy. We just shared a cuppa—"

"God Ma, you have to stop this. This all could be so easy if you let it."

"It doesn't feel easy, Tom! Since your father passed, nothing has felt easy."

"And who's fault is that?" He looked away in disgust. Or maybe it was frustration. "You always talk about how God is going to figure it all out, well maybe he has. I've turned my life around. You've never had to worry about Katie Grace so what's the issue?"

"I'm alone," she admitted simply. In the time it took to hear his mother she had shrugged into a wave of uncontrollable sobs. He went to her but took his time in embracing her. His mother was always so stoic and he struggled to remember when it was she had last been this broken. It was during his father's funeral, and now it was clear to Tom that she'd never stopped grieving.

"You're right, Tom. You and Katie have moved on and I haven't. I'm more angry at them than I thought I was and Sybil's just a reminder of that."

"If you look at her like she's one of them, you're no better than they are. Syb's just like Dad, Ma. She somehow believes things can change without all of the violence and on some days I actually believe her."

Helen laughed, pushing out a few more tears that she wiped with the tips of her fingers. "I'm trying. I know you don't believe that, but I am. This is all just going to take some time. I love you, Tommy."

Tom nodded. "I know you do. I...I love you too."

"Is that hard for you to say? Have I made that difficult?"

"No," he admitted. "I just can't remember the last time you said it."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays!

x. Elle


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** **:** I don't think there are many of you reading but I'm going to continue posting because I'm writing it anyway...might as well share it. Thank you to those of you who reviewed last chapter. I know it's a lot to get through but I hope it's worth it!

* * *

Beneath shared bedsheets, Tom found Sybil through the darkness. He wrapped a strong arm around her midsection and pulled her close, immediately begging that she soften into him as he placed several kisses to her pulsepoint. She did but she continued to cry, only stopping when she caught a better view of him and realized how strong he was and perhaps how strong he'd always been all because he felt he had to be.

"Should you be here?" Sybil asked, her voice even more raspy than usual due to its lack of volume.

Tom kissed her exposed shoulder blade. "You're sad and I want to fix it so yeah, I think I should be."

Sybil couldn't help but to smirk. "I think I just have to act like I don't care. She's not going to understand me. She may never agree with it and—"

"She took your money, Syb. You were good enough then."

"Her and Katie could have been homeless, Tom…"

"No, because they bought a couch and new curtains and this fecking bed."

"Yeah but we need this bed, right?"

It was Tom's turn to smirk. "Oh do _we_?" he emphasized. "Why don't you show me?"

"Tom!" Sometimes she was still the same innocent girl he fell in love with - the same girl he'd always think he ruined. "Isla's sleeping…"

"Do you plan on being loud?"

"Well I never plan on being loud," she dismissed with rosy cheeks. "But I think you being in here is enough. I don't need your mother to think we're shagging."

"How would she know?"

"I'm not a great liar. Besides, no matter how much she dislikes me, I still don't think it's fair. She has opened her home to us and I don't want to disrespect her like that."

Tom sighed out and rolled over onto his back. "Fiiiiine."

Sybil's grin grew. "Stay with me though?" Before he could move, Sybil did, turning over so she was pressed softly into his side with her hand pressed into the skin protecting his heart.

Tom nodded and the two shared a simple kiss. "Of course." Then: "No need to break the streak now, right?"

"I don't know how I ever did it," Sybil admitted. "I slept in with my grandmother a lot. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No," Tom chuckled. There was still so much he didn't know. "Aren't you adorable?" Another kiss was placed to the tip of Sybil's nose and her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

"Do you remember that night? Our first night?"

"Here or—"

"New York," Sybil smiled. "I could barely breathe with you next to me. I had waited a year for something I'd barely even tasted before and I remember the way you held me and how fast your heart was beating when I finally got into bed. You just kissed me forever and ever. It was a lovely night."

"Aye," Tom gave, unsure of how much he wished to reveal. Did she remember the way his fingertips shook against her skin and how it was his nervousness at disappointing her that kept him from acting on his resurrected urges? He wasn't nervous anymore, but he thought of Sybil's words and the way she warned him of further action tonight. She was right.

She was always right.

~!~

The following morning found Tom padding into the kitchen, immediately moving to the kettle to pour himself a cup of tea. He'd shower soon, but first he must caffeinate, and deal with the stares his mother and sister gave him upon leaving his old bedroom.

"I haven't slept apart from Sybil since I got out of Mountjoy and I certainly wasn't going to start last night," he sighed out effortlessly. "Besides—"

"Your hair is a disaster," Katie Grace commented.

Helen hid a laugh behind her hand. She returned to cutting tomatoes for what Tom could only conclude were breakfast sandwiches. She made no comment on Tom's whereabouts, and suddenly this made sense to Tom, considering shortly after he invited himself into bed with Sybil, the light in the kitchen went off, signaling his mother had retired to bed.

"Where's Sybil?" Katie asked, interrupting the silence.

Tom pushed a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame his amber locks. "Getting ready."

"She can't come have tea first?"

"She…" He sighed but added with it a laugh. "She tries really hard but sometimes she can't completely dismiss the fact that she comes from this other world," Tom admitted honestly. He turned to face his family now, both Katie Grace and Helen listening while continuing their early activities to show their lack of judgement. "She grew up in a house with a cook and a butler. You didn't go downstairs, let alone eat a meal with your family, if you weren't fully dressed."

"Is that how it is in New York?"

"No," Tom scoffed. "Hell no."

"What is it like?" Katie Grace's eyes widened in amusement, reminding everyone that perhaps she was still several years away from marriage. The life Tom shared with Sybil was one she wanted, just not yet.

Tom moved to help his mother. "It's grand. Really."

Behind them, Sybil appeared. She approached the counter and gently placed her hands down. "What's grand?"

Tom beamed at her. "New York."

"Oh," she nodded. "Yeah, it is. We'd love to have you visit. We're signing a lease on a flat soon—"

Helen's ears perked. "A flat?"

"Mhm," Sybil confirmed. "Two bedrooms and everything. I mean, it's still small but if you came to visit, we could put Isla in our room and you could have her room for your stay. It's in a safe neighborhood and it's near the station for Tom to take the train to work."

"And you're in school," Helen recalled. "Is it near your school?"

"It is. Very near. I only have a few blocks to walk to get to classes each morning."

"How are those going?"

Tom looking to Sybil, smiling while she did the same, all a result of such casual conversation between her and the other important women in his life. "Good. Stressful," she revealed with a small laugh.

"She's doing great," Tom explained over his shoulder. "She's made Dean's List for both semesters."

A noise jolted them from the moment. Sybil and Tom instantly looked to their bedroom, their shoulders slumping while they shared glances meant to decide who was going to retrieve a crying Isla from her crib. Tom happily accepted the task, but before he disappeared he pressed a soft kiss to Sybil's lips. In reaction her eyes shut and when she opened them and he was gone, she found her face growing warm amongst the current company she kept.

"Sorry," she whispered as she settled into the open spot Tom left at the counter. "And sorry for—"

"We're going to pretend I don't know," Helen explained, referring to the previous night her son and his girlfriend shared. "I'm finding there is absolute truth in there being bliss in ignorance."

Returning to their previous conversation, Sybil forced a smile. "I'm going to try to be better about sending you photos and things. Tom was so worried writing to you that he didn't want to push it, but it's very important to me that Isla knows you…" Her voice trailed off. "And I'm sorry Tom didn't mention anything before we arrived. I...I didn't know. I don't think that was fair."

"What do your parents think of you and Tom?"

"They don't," Sybil gave simply.

"Oh," Katie Grace whispered out. "I'm sorry…"

Sybil realized the connection being made was an incorrect one, so she smiled, hoping that would cure the situation as it had many times before. "They're not dead," she corrected with a nervous, but assuring, laugh. "Though," she continued, placing a strand curl behind her ear, "they probably wish I was…"

"Because of Tom?"

"Katie! Dún do bheal!"

Sybil merely laughed. "It's fine...no, not because of Tom. We stopped speaking long before Tom came along. Though, that's not to say that wouldn't cause issues. I don't know if my life would be something they'd approve of."

"Well do you approve? I mean...are you happy?" Helen asked honestly.

Sybil smiled again, this time for herself. "Very."

"Alright then," Helen exhaled. "You're a mother now, so I don't really think their opinion matters much anymore...even if you'd like it to."

Sybil's mouth dropped open; she wished to counter Mrs. Branson's comment with an inquiry into the mother's relationship with her son, but that same son appeared, carrying with him proof of Sybil's title of mother.

"Hi darling," she sang out. She looked to both Tom and Isla but it was Isla she reached out for. She was not showing off - she did not have to. Isla immediately gravitated toward her mother, reaching for Sybil's face while Sybil smattered her chubby cheeks with kisses. There was laughter and above all else, both Katie and Helen couldn't deny the volume Tom's smile would carry if only things like that made noise.

~!~

Tom told Sybil that breakfast reminded him of his life before, not the life he left behind when he went to New York but the life he lost when his father was killed in Belfast. There was laughter and the casual passing of plates as soon as grace was said. It lacked judgement and any and all passive aggressive undertones were lost, especially with Isla present.

After the meal, Tom explained to his mother that he and Sybil had a few errands to run. They were more than willing to bring Isla but Tom also mentioned their plans knowing they wouldn't have to. Their run to O'Connors, Trinity, and then the cemetery would be much more easily accomplished without a child in tow and Helen and Katie were more than willing to watch after the babe in her parents' absence. They had a few tasks to complete as well and both were thrilled to be able to bring Isla along with them. Secretly, Helen also enjoyed the way Tom and Sybil would not have to deal with disdainful glares in town — an unpromised occurrence had they brought Isla with them.

Outside both Sybil and Tom wrapped their jackets more fully around themselves. It was beyond blustery with the morning's rain still lingering heavy in the air. Because of this Sybil was happy to lean into Tom, accepting the arm he wrapped around her while they walked. Such a thing was so foreign here once, but now it felt like commonplace. She had spent an entire year making a life for herself, without Tom, in New York. With Isla she felt as if she was born anew, and nothing before that mattered. With such a knowledge, Sybil was marked by her time with Tom. The family they had created and the love they shared were more than enough to fill the rest of her days.

"They're staring," she commented. The wind was no longer easy to ignore and she wondered what she looked like with her frizzed curls blowing here and there.

Tom merely smirked. "Yeah, it's because you're so pretty."

Sybil nudged him with her hip. "Imagine if Isla were here…"

"I try not to. She doesn't deserve this kind of scrutiny." Sybil said nothing so Tom continued. "It's not you, it's me," he tried to explain. "I mean, you do look pretty," he commented genuinely, earning him a smile from Sybil. "They haven't seen me in awhile. Most of them probably don't want to see me…"

"They used to love you…"

"I thought so. Some of them still do. I think everyone's just tired."

"Like your mum?"

"Everyone. They all are," Tom repeated.

They were at the cemetery now. Sybil moved for the gate but Tom paused. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she took a step back into him. "Love?"

"You go," he pointed with a nod toward the entrance. His hands were still stiffly buried in the pockets of his bomber jacket.

"Tom…"

"I changed my mind. I don't want to do this today."

"Do you want to do this ever?" Sybil asked. Her retort was delivered in frustration, but not at him. The world had been unkind and she wanted him to forgive himself, not because it was easy, but because he genuinely deserved it.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Probably. This might be my last chance. Who knows? I just don't want to do it now, yeah?"

Sybil pursed her lips. "Alright," she nodded softly. "Do you want to go get a cuppa or—"

"I'll just wait here," he stated. Already he was walking to a nearby bench. Sybil's shoulders slumped as she entered the cemetery. He only saw her pause to retrieve a scrap piece of paper from her purse. On it were directions from Nula regarding the whereabouts of Aidan's gravesite. _He wasn't here_ — _not really,_ Sybil reminded herself. She heard these words spoken in Tom's voice the closer she became to the tombstone.

At it she kneeled down, paying no attention to the way the dew on the grass stained her jeans. The paper was tucked away and she made the sign of the cross with trembling hands. She no longer knew if she were shaking due to the cold or the inexplicable chill that came with praying for someone who had passed too early — someone your existence somehow encouraged the murder of.

"Hi A...Aidan," she stumbled. They were not friends. Sybil wanted that and she dreamed that maybe one day that could have been possible had he not died so prematurely. For a moment she thought of Molly and what could have happened between her and Aidan if life and the reality of it did not intervene. "I...It's Sybil. Tom's here too...well, not here, he's at the gate...he misses you and I guess because of that I miss you too. He loves you a lot and I know you meant the world to him and I just wish you were here because I know you could help him make sense of a lot of this. I try but...he still struggles to open up to me, I guess. I just have this feeling that even if you didn't like me...don't like me," she corrected, "you'd still be on him about that. I wish you were. He needs more than just me. And Isla...oh, we've got a baby now," she commented, laughing off the statement with a nervous chuckle. "Her name is Isla. She looks just like Tom. She's beautiful and we tell her about you all the time. Someday she'll understand, I think. I want her to. I have to work on that because I don't know if Tom's capable...somedays I don't think he understands all of it. You know in losing his father, there was grieving but there was also the acceptance of that hopefully being the last painful thing he'd experience. He had hardened himself to the world and prepared to go to Belfast and then everything happened that night and I've never seen someone look so broken. I...I love him if that means anything to you. I loved him then and I love him now. He's my best friend and I know he thinks of me in the same way but I wish he had you too. So if you have a way to let him know that all of this is okay…" Sybil realized how silly she sounded. Again she laughed, donating her words to the wind.

She stood but her movement was stunted. As she was brought to her feet, her nose nearly collided with Tom's chin. He was standing behind her and must have been for quite some time because tears dotted his cheeks. The last time she had seen him cry was in this same city, outside of Mountjoy. She embraced him then and was left with no other option than to do that now. Tom cradled her tightly against his chest, kissing the crown of her head before allowing his head to fall and bury into the crook of her neck. How, in her small frame and quiet stature, Sybil provided strength for him, Tom would never know. But she was his best friend, and she did far more than he'd ever be able to explain. Aidan's way of showing this to Tom would have been to do nothing at all. Tom had exactly what he needed in life and he was just where he was meant to be. This was the natural progression of life, just an unfortunate and tragic side of it - the second in Tom's lifetime. But with every devastation comes a sort of calm. For Tom, Sybil was that calm.

"Hey, hey…" she sang. "It's okay, alright? I'm right here."

Tom nodded before losing himself again. Amidst his tears he pressed a wet kiss to Sybil's collarbone. He needed her close, somehow closer than she'd been. In feeling this, the grip she had around his midsection remained. Her fingernails dug into the leather of his jacket and the two were mostly still, causing them to grow ignorant to the rain drops that began to fall overhead.

"I miss him, Syb. I miss him so fuckin' much…"

"Shhh," Sybil tried, palming at Tom's cheeks. "I know, love. And I know he misses you too. But…" Her voice trailed off. What was she even planning to say? "I can't explain any of that, Tom. I don't know why it happened. I don't know why any of this stuff ever happens but I know Aidan would want you to be happy. I know he'd want you to stop beating yourself up. He loved you a lot too, right? I think all you can do is make him proud. Show him you're capable of living the life you've been given."

Tom nodded but continued to hug Sybil. He had no words, or at least none that could do anything other than agree. He knew all of this but was partially stunned to discover this was the first time the pair had discussed it at length.

"It's alright, Tom," Sybil continued, now running her fingers up and down his neck in an effort to calm him down. "I love you, darling. I love you and Isla loves you and you're a good man. Aidan would think so too."

"Life's shit sometimes…"

"Yeah, but sometimes it's really great too. I told Aidan how we talk to Isla about him—"

"I know," Tom smirked through his tears. "I heard you."

"Well it's important that you don't lose this part of you. This was the man I fell in love with."

"I was hardly a good man to you…"

"Well I disagree. I fell very fast and very hard for the man you were that first weekend. You were good then and you're even better now but you are who you are because of all that's happened to you. Don't be ashamed of it. Let me help you work through it. Maybe it's okay if these things define you. Maybe that doesn't have to be some sort of awful thing."

"I don't know why, or how, but being back here and even feeling a bit unwelcome...I miss it. It's going to be hard to leave."

Sybil's head perked up at the sound of such a truth. "Yeah?"

"Well, yeah, but we will, of course. I love our life in New York...I guess I just forgot about my life here."

Sybil's features softened into a smile. "They're the same life, Tom. You're the same person."

~!~

Arriving home, Sybil and Tom were lost in a heated discussion, one that lacked talk of politics or any other world views, but instead of tea brands — the Barry's they purchased in New York and the Bewley's they'd both always enjoyed here. There wasn't a winner, and their disagreement ended in laughter, that of which also trickled off when the two approached the steps to Tom's flat. As his eyes caught on Katie Grace, Tom stiffened beneath the grip Sybil had on his forearm.

"Tom…" Sybil tried immediately, already knowing what it was he was about to do. It seemed her soft urging did nothing to dissuade him. He took a strong step toward the home and remained standing in a similar manner while Katie Grace and Dylan detached.

"Ach! Mar Dhea!" he called out. His hands were still in his pockets, causing his shoulders to be pulled back while his glance remaining up the steps at them. The stance showed Sybil that maybe Tom was more nervous than he was confident. "Is that necessary?"

Katie's cheeks were red, but she was not ashamed. It was actually Dylan who retreated into himself. When his hands fell from around Katie's waist, her level of rage was only ignited further. "Why are you so rude?"

"I'm rude? What you're doing is rude."

Katie placed a hand to her hip. "You're kidding, right?"

Tom laughed and began to ascend the steps. He didn't even make eye contact with Dylan and that said more to both Sybil and Katie than his words would. "Not at all. Get inside, would you?"

She scoffed, the sound encouraging Sybil to advance toward the pair. Up until then she'd accepted her role as a spectator, but here things were different. In an unexplained turn of events, she was on the teenage girl's side. "Tom!" she hushed out.

Tom ignored her. Katie gave a different sort of dismissal, delivering her disobedience directly to her brother. "I'm fine right here."

Tom paused. "Katie, get inside." There was no emotion behind his words. This was merely an order and he expected Katie to comply. When she didn't follow, Tom tried a different tactic. "Dylan, you're free to go. Katie has to come—"

"Tom!" Sybil was on the steps now. She had somehow moved past the group to open the door. "Inside! Now!"

Katie smirked. Sybil's words only highlighted the roots of her anger. "You're not my father."

"No, because Dad's not here. Don't be insensitive."

"Tom! Enough!" Sybil tried once more. She didn't want to embarrass him any more than he'd already embarrassed himself. She knew his irritation was heightened by the visit they'd just had at the cemetery. This was his way of compensating for how vulnerable he felt then - this was him doing his best to regain control. His temper was just as strong as it had been that first day she had met him. It was likely he also felt guilty for leaving his mother and sister and was trying to prove his interest was to protect the women in his life, just as his father would have.

In not wanting to do the exact thing he was condemning Katie for, Tom followed Sybil inside. The door shut behind them, highlighting how Sybil was clearly turned off by his behavior. Just as she was ready to turn back to him, Katie came inside, already running up the stairs toward her brother. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Well stop being a flah, would ye?"

Katie's mouth dropped open. She was ready to attack and was only further incensed when Tom turned away from her, walking behind Sybil into his mother's flat. She'd forgotten the brunette was there, but was hyper-aware of how still the home was, due to the lack of her mother and Isla's presence.

"Tom! Talk to me!"

The door was shut, allowing Tom to gain volume as he shrugged out of his coat. "I have nothing to say to you, Katie. This wasn't meant to be an argument, I just don't need you lobbing the gob on our doorstep!"

"Our doorstep? You don't live here anymore! You left!"

"It's still my house!"

"It's not your house! You gave it up! You couldn't even be bothered to stop in before you left for New York. You talk about what Dad would have wanted...he wouldn't have wanted that. You don't show an ounce of respect toward Mum! You didn't even tell her you had a child! What kind of bollocks is that?"

"Katie, language…"

"Piss off, Tom! I've bitten my tongue for too long. I tried to be sweet and I tried to be okay with this but I'm not. I was fuming when you left and now I'm fuming with you back. I honestly wish you'd stayed there. You've done nothing but upset Mum and now you come in here acting as if you know what's best for me? You couldn't be arsed to write me? You didn't care before you were here and I'd guess you won't care when you return."

"You don't know what you're saying, Katie. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but you can do better than Dylan—"

"You don't even know him!" she gave. "And we were having a conversation."

"Didn't seem like there was a lot of talking going on…"

"Oh, feck you, Tom! You're such a goddamn hypocrite, you know that? You can know Sybil a weekend, knock her up, and that's okay but I can't kiss my boyfriend?"

"That was hardly just kissing…"

"He's my boyfriend, Tom! Sybil's your girlfriend, no? And you two have a kid...a feckin' kid! You're a right arse and I'm sick of the double standards. Go marry Sybil before you even begin to tell me what's right for me."

"We will! Eventually!"

"God forbid I have a child before I'm married…"

"Yah, god forbid!" Tom returned.

The argument halted, disappearing toward silence as both caught their breaths. Katie was seconds from walking away, but she gave Tom the truth despite not wanting him to have it. Really, it was selfish - she just needed to say it aloud, even to the man she was arguing with, the same man she once adored and now found herself disgusted by.

"Well it's a good thing you weren't here a couple of months ago…" Maybe she wished to hurt him too; he'd always done a fair job helping to carry her pain.

Tom was ready to walk away too but her murmurs stopped him. "Whatya say?" From in the kitchen, Sybil stood up from where she leaned back against the counter.

"Nothing…" Katie dismissed.

"I asked a question, Katie."

"And I don't need to give you an answer!"

"What happened a couple of months ago, Katie?" Tom's questions were calm, and eerily so.

"Nothing! You weren't here! Forget I said anything!"

"Like fuck I will! Did that bowsie—"

"I was there too, Tom! Yeah, we had sex and yes, I got pregnant. And Dylan was going to send me to London to have it taken care of—"

"Excuse me? Taken care of? What the fuck does that mean, Katie?"

"It means that if I ever showed up here with a baby on my hip the way that Sybil did, I'd be disowned! I wouldn't be able to go to church and Mum certainly wouldn't let me live here. No one would hire me and it wouldn't matter if I actually wanted to go to UCD because I couldn't afford it...even if I could, I wouldn't have time for it! But you and Sybil live your perfect life in your perfect flat with your perfect family...how dare you come into my home and tell me what is and is not good for me. You don't know and you never will! You gave all of that up! Your opinion no longer matters to me and I don't give a rat's arse if you think poorly of me. I've only done what you've done—"

Sybil stood behind the pair, hidden by the kitchen cabinets which acted as a wall between them. She wanted to cry, mostly for Katie Grace, but all her eyes could manage was moisture they didn't dare to spill. Around her neck was the cross necklace Tom had purchased her for their first Christmas together. She held the gold in her fingers, even going as far as to trace her lips with its pointed edges.

"Sybil didn't get an…" He struggled to say the word.

"No! Because she had options, Tom! I didn't have options! Poor girls from Dublin don't get to make decisions like that. And Dylan was so ashamed he was ready to send me away to deal with it."

"He's a shite…"

"He's not! If you were here, you would have done the same thing!"

"Asked Sybil to get rid of our child? Like hell I would! And ashamed if the furthest thing from what I felt..."

"What was he supposed to do, Tom? A child would have ruined us! Isla is beautiful and wonderful and so, so innocent but she made your life better! I didn't have that freedom! We never get the same freedom! And if Dad were here, he'd be so disappointed in me so for once I'm glad he wasn't. He'd forgive you but he wouldn't forgive me."

"Where's the baby?"

"Does it matter?"

Tom didn't know what he was feeling and because of that, he had no words to give his baby sister. Maybe that was the problem, she wasn't young anymore, and it was clear his absence had allowed her to grow up much more quickly than either of them would have hoped. But the truth was, he wasn't disappointed in her, he was disappointed in himself. Her father, an endlessly gentle man, would have forgiven her eventually, but it was likely he would not be able to forgive Tom if he were to cast Katie Grace off now.

He left silently, causing Katie to practically fall into a nearby chair. She was crying, Sybil knew that much, and though she couldn't possibly comprehend what it was the blonde was feeling, she knew how upset she felt. She could only imagine the pain that came with revealing such a secret.

"Katie?" Sybil tried. She extended a fistful of tissues the young girl's way. When she took them, Sybil accepted this as permission to sit down. Even so, she did not speak.

Finally, Katie did. "You don't have to comfort me."

"I do though," Sybil confirmed softly. "He's wrong, Katie…"

"He's not wrong. I was stupid and—"

"And we weren't? I mean, we weren't...not in my opinion, but if you and Dylan were, surely we were. I'm sorry if—"

"You don't have to apologize…"

"But I do," Sybil assured. "Tom's not being fair and woman to woman, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Things aren't as progressive here as they are in New York," Katie reminded, doing so with a small laugh.

Sybil smiled too, reminding Katie Grace of how much she was once drawn to the English girl. "And that's not fair either. But I do have money...er, my grandmother does. She took care of me until Tom could and it's easier for a man to provide for a family than for me to do it on my own. It breaks my heart, but I understand why Dylan would want to send you away. I don't think you had much of a choice…"

"I didn't do it!"

Sybil paused. "You didn't?"

"No..." She looked down to her lap where the tissues were now crumpled, damp and stained with the thin layer of mascara she wore. "Thankfully."

"Who has—"

"I miscarried. Early on. Maybe it was the stress that took care of it…"

"Oh, Katie," Sybil practically sang in sympathy. "I am so, so sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's a sign. I want to have children someday and I'd like to have them with Dylan. It's likely if I had gone to get an abortion that wouldn't happen."

"Because he'd think less of you?"

"For awhile I thought he already did. He says he doesn't but we haven't had...nevermind."

"I have a child," Sybil reminded with a giggle. "I'm sure it's not fun for you to hear but I have sex. I like having sex. They may not talk about it, but most women do."

"Well we haven't. And it's hard for me to. Again, this isn't New York…"

Sybil forced a small smile. "No, I guess it's not."

"Can you please not tell my mum? I mean, Tom probably will but—"

"No, he won't," Sybil assured. "He just needs a moment to cool down and realize how dense he's being."

"I think he just listens to you…"

"Because I call him on his rubbish. He loves me. He doesn't have a choice."

"You're lucky…"

Sybil looked to Katie Grace, examining the girl's green eyes. "You're lucky too, Katie. I'm sorry for what's happened to you but please don't let it dictate your future. It's done now and you can't change it, you can only choose how to handle things from here on out. I just hope Dylan can learn a thing or two from Tom's outburst. You may not think you have options but you do. And these are your decisions to make. He can only be supportive and I hope he is."

"He is...he's really lovely. I'm sorry Tom doesn't think so."

"He's just worried. It doesn't give him a right to be a wanker, but it's the truth. Tom's a wonderful man, but he's not perfect."

"You don't say…"

Both women shared knowing smiles. "Just be careful. If it's worth anything, it wasn't easy for us either and we did have my grandmother's financial help and the benefit of living in a city far too large for reputations to be made and kept up with. It's easy to escape in New York if you really want to. I'd love for you and Dylan to come visit sometime. I think it'll be good for you to get out of Dublin...see how the rest of the world works."

Katie paused. "Why are you so kind?"

"Because you deserve it. But also because I never had anyone be kind to me. No one ever told me it was okay. So I'm telling you now...it's okay."

~!~

Sybil didn't hear the water run, but during her talk with Katie Grace, Tom had taken a shower. He sat on the edge of the bed now, clearly derailed by thoughts he couldn't shake. He was without a shirt and she saw only the muscles of his back while he hunched over, thinking.

He didn't need to look to the door to know it was Sybil who had entered. She was so light on her feet sometimes, and since becoming a mother she had mastered the art of silently shutting a door. "I don't want to argue…"

"You seemed to want to argue," Sybil stated plainly. "But I don't want to argue either. Though I do disagree with what you just did and I'd like to discuss this."

"Sybil…" He stood, immaturely hoping that maybe his lack of clothing would have her exterior softening.

She did not waiver. The two stood at odds now, chests heaving steadily while they waited for the other to make the first move. "You're wrong, Tom. I love you and you're my best friend and I adore the man you are, but you're wrong."

"How am I wrong?"

"Katie can snog Dylan on the steps because we've brought a baby into your mother's home and did so without warning...and without marriage."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that she's right. You're a hypocrite if you're not allowing her to live her life with Dylan. If this is the boy she loves then so be it. He's done nothing to show anyone he is anything but good to her."

"Well they don't need to be mugging on the steps."

"Why? We did. I kissed you in this very home, just hours after we had met."

Tom smirked. "I kissed you, actually. And we were inside. And you had stalked me for months before that. In your mind we were practically dating."

Sybil wanted to smile, but she banished the amused emotions she was harboring. "I will not apologize for the way I felt and I don't think that love holds more merit because of how long it took to occur, and then how long it lasts thereafter. I told your mother that and I'll tell anyone else who dares to question us and Isla and the life we have made together. But if you're going to treat her like a child, you need to do the same with me. If she's being careless, so am I. And I was...we were. I don't regret it and I wouldn't trade that night for the world but I fell for you and I fell for you fast. I wanted to give myself to you and I didn't think twice about it. I still don't. It's one of the easiest things in the world. So if Katie is some lush, then so am I. The only difference is she's a woman—"

"Are you not a woman?"

"Not an Irish one. Not a poor Irish one," she added for emphasis.

Tom was somewhat impressed by her ability to remain stoic. "Well I'm sorry if I offended you. That wasn't my intention. I just think—"

"Well it doesn't matter what you think because she is grown and your mother approves so there's really no reason for her and Dylan not to be together. And she's right! You're not here so what does it matter to you? She's in love! She's working and she wants to go to school and she's dating a boy who's doing the very same thing. It could be much worse!"

"He could be a convict…"

Sybil slumped into herself, the action motivating her to take a step toward Tom and grab for his hands. "I didn't say that. But if you're not allowed to feel bad for those things, then you certainly don't have the right to do the same for her. She's ashamed too, and just like you, she shouldn't be. What do I always tell you, Tom? Life happens and often we have no control over it either way."

Tom dropped Sybil's hands and instead enveloped her with his arms. She was so small against his wider frame that he was forced to remind himself that she was the strong one here. "Are you mad at me then?"

"No. But I want you to apologize. And I want you to know why you're apologizing and I want you to mean it. She...she lost the baby, Tom. She thinks it was for the best and maybe it was but that doesn't make that any easier. This is her body just as it was my body. Dylan only did what you would have done if we had to stay here," she said, continuing quickly so Tom couldn't contest. "They care about one another and they're doing their best to make all of this work. That's just what we're doing. Only she's right, we do have the upper hand. I was that girl once but I had you. The poor girl feels as if she's got the entire world against her. She just needs her brother to be on her side."

~!~

Dinner was slightly awkward, that of which did not go unnoticed by Mrs. Branson. With Sybil's encouragement, Tom had tried to apologize to Katie Grace beforehand but was met with unfavorable results. She ignored his attempts, leading to far too much silence after grace was said. Sybil cooked the meal, and Helen was surprised to find it was not only edible, but quite good. She was liking Sybil, and would probably enjoy her company more if she only gave herself permission to do so. Because she was aware of this, she happily took the girl's offer to help her with Isla's bath. With both women gone, Tom was once again given a chance to confront Katie and he did it without reservation.

"I'm sorry," he gave, pulling Katie attention away from the dishes she was washing. The mere fact that she was performing such a domestic task while Tom stood idly by, was a silent nod toward their earlier argument.

Tom was not deterred when she ignored his apology. "I mean it, Katie. And yes, it did take Sybil to show me, but I was wrong and I had no right to say what I said. It was insensitive and I am a hypocrite and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You did."

Tom nodded. "Well it was wrong of me and—"

"Sybil's really great, you know."

Tom looked up. Though he was previously ashamed of his behavior, he couldn't help but to beam with pride at Katie's comment. "Aye...she is."

"You're an insufferable arse sometimes and you're lucky to have her."

"Can't argue you there."

"And Dylan's great too...far better than Tyler was."

"Anyone is better than Tyler was," Tom retorted, referring to Katie's ex-boyfriend, the same boy who'd criticized Tom's behavior, showing his overall lack of sympathy for his time spent at Mountjoy.

"Dylan really wants to impress you and I don't know why, because—"

"For the same reason Sybil wishes to impress you and Mum, I'm assuming," Tom gave honestly.

"I'm glad you have her. I'm not angry at her for changing you. Really, she didn't. She's just reminded you of who you can be...and demanded that you be that person."

"She has," Tom said with a small laugh. "She's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Her and Isla."

"When...I want to marry Dylan. Someday. If that's what he wants. When we're ready," she added, doing so just as she'd shared every thought prior: in fragments. "I'd like you to be here. And I'd like you to approve and to be happy for me."

"Katie, I'm always happy for you. And I'm proud of all you've done and I'm sorry I wasn't here to witness all of it. And I don't feel this way because of Dad, though I know he'd agree...I want you to feel what I feel so if Dylan makes you as happy as Sybil makes me, then so be it. And I will absolutely do my best to be here."

"I'm sure you'll have like eight kids by then, but it would mean a lot to me."

"Eight? A few more, maybe, but not eight."

"Sybil told me she likes having sex. It was a real ice breaker. I just figure you two aren't done."

Tom brought a palm up to his eyes and began to shake his head. "She doesn't always have a filter."

"Well I like it," Katie assured with a genuine smile. "I like her and I'm happy that you're happy."

Tom smiled too. "The same goes for you. It's about time, right?"

~!~

The rest of their week in Dublin had Sybil and Tom forgetting about those first awkward nights. They introduced Mr. O'Connor to Isla and Sybil was even able to find Molly's address in Belfast. She lived there with Brian now, and the two were expecting a child in the Spring. Tom and his mother had a very honest discussion about Katie Grace. As Sybil had guessed, both predicted she'd have a life similar to Molly's - the same life she was sure her parents would have wanted for her. It may be another year or two before Katie and Dylan were engaged, but Tom and Sybil promised to return for the impending wedding. Tom estimated that Aidan's father would be out of prison by then, and he made a joke to Katie Grace about possibly planning her wedding to coincide with his release.

Tom was better after that day in the cemetery but he'd always default to humor or silence when the truth was unbearable. Sybil did make him better and their life was constantly working to heal him, but in accepting his past and forgiving himself, Tom was also forced to admit to everything he'd ever been through. The vulnerability Sybil demanded from him forced Tom to confront her own.

On the plane ride home, with Isla sleeping against her mother's chest, Tom turned to Sybil with a sly smile spread across his cheeks. "What about you?"

Sybil, who had her gaze stuck on the soft blanket covering their daughter, looked to Tom as if she were surprised to hear his voice. "What about me?" she giggled, unsure of what it was he was getting out.

"When do you get to confront your past?"

"Confront it? Hopefully never," Sybil admitted quite honestly. "But accept it? I accepted it long before you came along."

Tom's gaze narrowed. "You think?"

"I don't think, I know," Sybil dismissed casually.

Tom nodded, and spent the time he could have been doubting her to instead place a kiss to the back of her hand. She smiled and the two shared a kiss, all before joining Isla is muted slumber. When they awoke they were in New York, greeted by an early morning on the island that had already given them so many second chances. Like Dublin, it was cloudy in Manhattan and Sybil and Tom were happy to have the day off so they could possibly retire to bed. When they arrived to Martha's flat, Isla did not seem to protest. She'd been asleep for much of their journey and was only awoken when the lift let out a beep, signaling the couple that they were on their desired floor. As requested, the bellhop left their bags by the door. Tom gave the young boy a tip and he smiled but then retreated toward the elevator without any further word. The two were alone in their own silence, the same place they'd been nearly two years ago when Tom had first arrived. Things were different now and aside from the comfort they felt here, Tom couldn't help but to cherish the way he was allowed to love Sybil so freely. He cupped her cheeks and gave her a soft kiss before they pushed inside, moving with the noise of bags and the laughter that occurred as they shuffled through the door.

They were met, not by Martha, but by an undeniable silence. The world they had just left was not one in the same with the world they were soon thrust into. On the couch before them, Martha stood and walked toward the pair, revealing behind her several more faces, all of them just as surprised and possibly even more sharply dressed. What was once a spirited discussion now looked more like an intervention with Sybil and Tom present. They dropped their bags but did not dare to take another step in.

"Sybil…" Martha tried. Tom looked to her, unsure of whether or not an apology was meant to follow.

Sybil was not as easily distracted. She remained, steady eyes blinking while she struggled to catch her breath.

"Hi, darling," a woman said. The words brought her to her feet and only then was Tom able to see the clear similarities in their features. Her hair was shorter but nearly the same color and the women shared complexion, eye color, and even timbre.

"Hi, Mama," she choked out. Immediately she swallowed, wishing to rid her throat of its tight, dry feeling. She couldn't, and was unable to manage any other words as she continued to take everyone in. She couldn't imagine what Tom was thinking or feeling and she was unable to gauge such a thing amidst her fear. Even so, they were all staring at him with such confusion that Sybil nearly forgot about the child on her hip.

"Mama," Isla whispered before grabbing for her mother's necklace and putting it in her mouth. "Mama," she tried again, this time with the golden cross rubbing at her gums.

"Yeah…" Sybil breathed out in response. "Mama."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : You know when you've read something a million times and somehow proofreading it that thoroughly has caused you to overlook mistakes because your eyes have just gotten used to them? (Well even if you don't, that's what has happened here...sorry for the errors that I'm sure exist in this!)

* * *

 _When their plane landed, Martha did not go to the airport to greet her family. Their visit was an altogether unwelcome one; they had invited themselves, giving Martha so little time to react that she had no other choice but to open her home to them. So she bit her tongue, just like she always did._

 _Robert was never the man Martha wanted for her daughter but she accepted their relationship because she knew to cast Cora off was to dismiss her from her life. Cora enjoyed London and she enjoyed the titles. Leaving New York was such an easy feat for the teenage girl that Martha wondered how her daughter now struggled with the mindset behind Sybil's need to escape. Sybil honed her mother's free-spirit and her father's stubborn soul. These defining characteristics are what made her the woman she was today: an unmarried medical student with a beautiful baby girl._

 _Sybil was sweet and she carried with her a heart most weren't capable of even believing in. Now she had with her a child and a man that loved her more than most. Together they were hardworking and the family they created was something Martha almost envied. She'd done her best to raise her children well after her husband's death but she admitted that she was reliant on monetary affections when her own emotions were not acknowledged enough to develop properly and be shared. Isla had Martha ignited once more; she was reminded of the beauty behind love and kindness and ultimately, forgiveness. It was this last trait that had Martha accepting Robert and Cora's self-invitation. They'd stay in her home and she'd decide, in the meantime, how she'd have them gone before Sybil's arrival. It truly was never her intention to have the two meet._

 _Similarly, with Robert and Cora's intentions, no time was spared in n bringing them to light. Just as soon as suitcases were set down and tea was poured, Mary, always the bold one, cut the silence quite casually._

" _Where is she?"_

 _Martha looked around. "Who?"_

 _Even Edith rolled her eyes. "Oh please Gran! Sybil...obviously."_

" _How is that supposed to be obvious to me?"_

" _Well isn't she here?" Edith added._

" _Where do you have her hidden?" Robert asked. It was also an accusation, that of which was not lost on Martha._

" _That is a lot of interest for a man who couldn't answer her phone calls, much less read her letters…"_

" _She left us," Robert stated._

" _Yes," Martha nodded. "Children leave sometimes," she reminded, looking right at Cora. "And sometimes they come back, inviting themselves into your home, demanding answers you may or may not have…"_

" _Oh, Mama, please!"_

" _Cora, I owe you nothing. Simply put, Sybil is not here."_

" _Then where is she?" Edith asked._

 _Martha shrugged. "Not here."_

 _Robert leaned back, rubbing at his eyes to rid them of their exhaustion. "Jesus Christ…"_

" _Say she was here...what would it matter?"_

" _Well I'd like to see her," Cora insisted._

" _Why? Why now? After nearly five years…" This was a comment on Cora's absence in New York, not in her daughter's life._

" _I...we're worried about her. We've heard things."_

" _Things?" The word was far more irritating to Martha than any could explain. "Well if she were here, I don't know why you'd worry. New York has far more to offer a girl like Sybil than London does…"_

 _Edith sat forward. "So she's in the city?"_

" _She's in a city, sure…"_

" _For fuck's sake, Martha!" Robert shouted. "How long are we going to play this game?"_

 _Martha stood, causing Robert to sit back on his chair. He was no longer a man but a little boy, scared before Martha had even opened her mouth. "I have nothing to give you. I asked all of you to reach out to her after she left and you didn't. I was upset and I told you how much it meant to me that you all fix this and still no one would budge. Those were my requests and they weren't even met with consideration. Now you come into my home, a home I have invited you in because I don't think I had much of a choice, and you're upset because I'm not giving you what you want? There are more than enough lovely hotels in this city if you have a problem with any of this. I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable staying here tonight…"_

" _Granmama, please! I wanted to reach out to her...you knew that!" Mary gave sharply._

" _But you didn't! You didn't because you didn't want to upset your parents. Which, really Mary, I understand, but I also understand and respect the bond between sisters. Sybil needed you and you detached!"_

" _Well I'm here now!"_

" _Well it's too late!" No one in the room, not even Cora, had ever heard such volume from Martha. Their shock kept them from being surprised when her tone quickly changed. "Now! Let's go uptown for lunch. There's this new French place I've been wanting to try…"_

 _They played her game because they were left with no other choice. Throughout lunch they caught up, talked politics and the weather, and even managed laughter. When they returned, however, Martha stole away to make a phone call to her personal assistant._

" _Anna, listen to me," Martha continued, "I need you to…" She thought of everything: of lies and hotels and anything that could possibly diffuse this situation, even temporarily. "Just make sure that when Steven picks Sybil and Tom up, he acts casual." Somehow this was not her original plan but it was what her lips delivered._

" _Alright, so you want him to act as he always does? Silent...expressionless?"_

" _That'll do. I...this isn't going to end well but she's going to hate me if I send her away. I'd only be doing what they did and Sybil hates to be protected from the world. That's not fair to her and I won't do that to Isla and Tom either. At least this way she can make a decision. And if she wants them gone then that's it. This is still her home for the next couple months."_

" _Do you think she'll ask for that?" Anna inquired. "I mean, really…"_

" _No. Probably not."_

" _Alright. So their flight gets in at eleven. They should be to your end of the city by twelve-thirty. Is that acceptable?"_

 _Martha released a heavy sigh. "It's going to have to be…"_

 _After hanging up the phone Martha took a moment to herself. She rested on the nearby dresser - it was Isla's and just beside it was the child's crib. She sighed out and approached the door but was slow to open it. Once she was out in the hallway, she reacted differently, moving quickly to latch the wood in its frame, an easy task when she saw Mary and Edith quickly approach. Their proximity had Martha reaching behind herself to keep a strong hand on the brass knob._

 _Edith's forehead creased. "What's that?"_

" _What?"_

" _That door. That room."_

" _God, you children are nosey…"_

 _Mary ran a hand over her swollen stomach. "We're hardly children."_

 _Martha walked away, leaving her granddaughters no other option but to follow. "You act like children…"_

" _Gran, please! Just tell us where she is and—"_

" _She needed you!" Martha seethed. "She needed you and you pushed her away! Wherever she is, don't be surprised if she's not happy to see you. She's managed many years without a family and I wouldn't be surprised if she sees you and wants to continue on her own."_

That was exactly what had happened, or at least that appeared to be the case. After scanning the room and accepting that she, Tom, and Isla were not as alone as they had always been, Sybil quickly retreated. First her mind shut down, causing her to blink straight ahead. Then she removed Isla from her hip and handed the child to her father. While Sybil moved quickly toward her bedroom, Tom repositioned his daughter, even softening when he noticed how easy it was for her to play with his own gold chain while he too stood motionless, unsure of what to do. Martha dropped her head down into her hands and Cora, seeing this strange man holding who she could only assume was her granddaughter, turned away from the situation completely. It seemed neither woman would ever tire of retreating from the uncomfortable.

Tom could only smile. Sybil had been strong for him for so long and now it was his turn. "Hi," he gave, all with a small laugh and an emphasis, perhaps subconsciously, on his Irish-drawl. It was this that had Robert lifting his head, finally acknowledging the stranger.

Martha approached Tom quickly, the two reducing themselves to a whisper so they would not be heard. "Well this hardly seems fair," Tom jested.

Martha nodded. "It's not. I...I didn't know they were coming and—"

"Well they did and they're here and Sybil's not happy so…"

"I can ask them to go…"

Tom paused to study Martha's features. "Can you honestly do that?"

Martha paused too. "Well I think so. It's my home."

"They're your family."

"Yes and so are you and Sybil."

The statement warmed Tom, especially as Isla pressed her cheek to his chest, ready for a nap after their somewhat turbulent cross-atlantic flight. "This isn't my battle to fight. If she wants to confront it then I will absolutely support her in that but I don't know if it's fair to throw me to the wolves like this…"

"I don't think that was her intention."

"Of course not," Tom agreed. "But she did and now I'm going to go make sure she's okay and I can't promise I'll be returning any time soon."

"If she—"

In a way that only he could manage, a way that he had most likely learned from Sybil, Tom walked away. He did so delicately, avoiding eye contact with Sybil's family so as to not look rude. She was his priority now and he hoped he hadn't given her so much time she was already beginning to shut down.

This was not the case. Upon entering their room he found she was standing before the mirror in the bathroom, brushing her hair to show just how little she was affected by the situation. To Tom, it told the opposite story. He leaned on the doorjamb as he took her in. Isla was still working to fall asleep against his chest and he felt her breathing slow down against the skin of his neck.

"Syb…"

She turned to him silently. "Yeah?"

He smiled. "Love…"

"I'm fine," she shrugged, before turning off the light and leaving the room.

Tom, left in darkness, followed. Isla seemed to be calm enough for him to put the child in her crib. Without her, he went immediately for Sybil. She was at their dresser now, ready to open a drawer and grab for a different shirt. If Isla slept and if Sybil's family wasn't out in the room behind the nearest wall, both would most likely be ridding themselves of clothing to share a hot shower.

"Syb, love…"

She broke down, crying immediately and moving her hands to conceal this fact. All of her was red, her cheeks especially, and when she felt she could no longer hide behind her palms she reached out for Tom and wrapped her hands so strongly around his neck it only made sense for her to bury her face into his chest. "I guess it was stupid but I really thought I'd never see them again."

Tom placed a strong kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Sybil…"

"I hate them…"

Tom paused, wondering if he should lie to her or challenge her. The former was never a choice and the latter always came too easily for the both of them. "No you don't…"

"I want to," she assured. "This isn't fair!"

The fact that Sybil had yet to blame her grandmother had Tom surprised. He knew it was not too far off and when Sybil removed her head from his chest and wiped at her eyes, it seemed a new wave of realism hit her. "Maybe we should get a hotel, or—"

"Your grandmother said she'd put them out…"

"I don't want to see them but that hardly seems fair."

"No, I guess it's not. But I don't think this was her idea. She seems just as uncomfortable as we are."

"We're all uncomfortable...even they are," Sybil reasoned. "I don't know why they're here."

"This may seem obvious but I think they genuinely want to see you."

Sybil looked to him. For a moment she looked hurt but the longer Tom stared the easier it was for him to see she was searching his observation for a deeper meaning, always doing her best to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't think that's obvious. And genuine or not, it's a bit too late."

"Too late?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Do you want my honest opinion? I mean, do you really want to get into this?"

"We're already into this," Sybil disregarded. "Whatever this is," she added, all in whisper.

Tom sighed out. "Yes, it surprises me. You have this ridiculous capacity for forgiveness."

"Do I?"

"Well don't you?" Tom countered. "You forgave me."

"I had nothing to forgive you for, Tom."

Tom chuckled and took a step toward her once more. "I was dangerous and you liked me anyway."

It was Sybil's turn to laugh. "You were hardly dangerous."

"Well I was about to do some pretty stupid shite and you didn't judge me for it. And then I actually did do some pretty stupid shite and you forgave me for leaving you and Isla alone all those months."

"You didn't have much of a choice in either of those scenarios, Tom. That wasn't forgiveness. It was acceptance."

"Then you helped me to forgive myself," he said quickly, and without much emotion. It was clear he was irritated by his inability to concoct a coherent sentence.

"Perhaps," Sybil gave, swallowing. "So what do we do?"

"We?"

Sybil smirked. "Do you honestly think I'm going to face their wrath alone?"

"That's comforting," Tom quipped with a small eye-roll.

She went to him once more, this time wrapping her arms around his waist to show her true intentions. "I don't think I can do this alone. Is that better?"

Tom pressed a kiss to her nose. Her eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation. "I love you."

Sybil smirked. "I love you too. But that's hardly an answer."

"They're not going to like me," Tom exhaled heavily. "I've accepted that so as long as you're ready to face that then sure, I'll do whatever you need."

"There's nothing to face, really. This is my life and I like my life and I don't regret leaving behind a life where that wasn't the case. I let their opinions control me for so long and when I finally escaped that I somehow felt as if I couldn't live without that validation. Now I can barely conceive how that was even possible."

~!~

It was with Tom's hand gripping her own that Sybil emerged out of her bedroom and into the rest of the house. An empty hallway with mostly shut doors greeted them where at the end stood the living room, all basked in light that they'd soon be deprived of as the afternoon settled in.

"Are we looking for them? Is this a confrontation?" Tom asked.

Sybil gave him an amused smirk. It was incredible to believe this man she loved so deeply was once a scared little boy, ready to fight because it was easier than facing some sad, inconvenient truths. "Hardly a confrontation...though I wouldn't be opposed to one...but I'm certainly not going to start it," she promised.

Tom smiled too. "Food then?"

"Yes please."

Somehow the pair managed to make it to the kitchen without running into another soul. Greeting the white tiled room, Anna stood plating the meal that had just been prepared by Martha's chef. They knew what this meant, or at least Sybil did, and when she instructed Tom to grab a beverage, he realized she had plans to eat elsewhere. Sunday meals were reserved for the large dining room table in the middle of Martha's penthouse flat. It was clear to Tom now, upon seeing two of Sybil's family members at the table, that this was not the case had they all been back in England — if Sybil had never left and the life she was living was one where he (or their daughter) did not exist.

The man and the woman stared, but neither said anything. They'd faced similar gawking in Dublin, only then they carried Isla with them, and the glaring was short-lived. As Sybil and Tom sat down and unfolded their napkins, it continued.

"You can say hello," Sybil commented, seemingly to no one in particular.

"Can we?" The blonde asked.

Sybil swallowed the bite of food she'd just gotten off her fork. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"I didn't...we weren't supposed to stay this long," she tried to explain.

It was this that had Sybil snapping her head in her sister's direction. "So you didn't want to see me?"

"I didn't know it was an option. Gran must have said something to Mum and then Mum insisted we stay. We didn't know you were here," she reasoned.

Meanwhile, the man sitting at the table continued to read his paper. Tom spent the time feeling like an outsider, wondering if all of this would be easier if he had introduced himself earlier. Did they care though? All of them, every single one, failed to even acknowledge his presence. He was sure if Sybil was not seated beside him that neither the man nor the woman would have looked up when he entered.

"It's been an option for three years," Sybil gave in return. "It was an option when I left and every time I wrote a letter—"

"We didn't see the letters," the blonde assured.

"I didn't know that was necessary for you to send your own."

"We didn't know where you were…"

"Yes, you did. I was here—"

"Were you?" Finally, Tom was acknowledged. The blonde looked his way, even going as far as to give him a small, sympathetic smile.

Sybil looked to Tom too. Like her sister, she couldn't help but smile, or at least she would have done such a thing if she weren't so frustrated with the conversation at hand. "We're honestly arguing semantics, Edith!"

Tom smiled; he was happy to have a name. Then, like a child trying to do well on a test, he silently recounted all he knew about her: _middle sister, works in public relations, meek but mouthy when provoked_.

Sybil continued: "The point is that I did write and you had the chance to write back but you didn't. It doesn't matter where I was or who I was with because I used Gran as my return address. There's no excuse. I expected this from Mary, but I thought you'd at least attempt to reach out...even if no one else knew."

Another woman appeared: _Mary_ , Tom assumed, repeating her name silently in his head. "What am I being accused of now?" she asked as she moved toward the table. As if gravity were her only motivator she kept her chin high and a hand pressed to her swollen stomach as the other man at the table helped her pull out her chair so she could sit beside him.

Her presence, previously only called upon by Sybil, now had the youngest Crawley girl sitting back. It seemed she was intimidated, or perhaps ashamed, to have disregarded Mary's detachment. Then again, Tom knew based on several brief things Sybil had said that Sybil was closest with Mary and was maybe just the most offended that the slim, raven-haired girl found it so easy to write her sister off. Sybil felt betrayed and even that was not a big enough excuse for her to slander her eldest sister's name.

"Not accused," Sybil tried, now with more composure. "You're stubborn and I expected you to ignore me—"

"I was hurt," Mary said calmly. It seemed that everyone was surprised by her admission.

"Yeah, me too," Sybil said. Tom wondered if the rest of them noticed how her voice cracked, signaling she was ready to cry.

Edith sat back now. Tom couldn't quite tell if she was relieved to have the attention off of her or annoyed that Mary had somehow gained ownership of the conversation. He recounted how Sybil had made comments regarding the feuding between her sisters and how she was never amused by it, only saddened by the missed opportunity for both women to be friends. Both had so much to offer the world, she once said, always speaking so fondly of these same people she now wished she could hate.

Just when the silence settled back in, Mary spoke again, bringing everyone back into the moment. "Who are you?"

Tom paused. He looked up but it took several moments to realize she was talking to him. "Pardon?"

Mary smirked, amused by his inattention. "Who are you?" she tried again, this time more slowly.

"Tom."

"Alright, _Tom_ ," she repeated in a somewhat mocking tone, "you are?"

"My boyfriend."

"I don't know whether to be relieved or sad to know you're not married," Edith admitted honestly. Based on a glance the two sisters gave one another, it looked as if Mary agreed.

"Well I don't think that's an opinion you're allowed to have," Sybil commented.

Tom sat up straighter, remembering why it was he was at Sybil's side - surely it was for more than silent moral support. "Well sure they are. They have every right. And I have every right to disregard their opinions as irrelevant."

Mary scoffed, nearly choking on her food. "That's hardly polite."

Tom did not waiver. "You've got quite the moral compass then."

"I assume that child is yours?"

"Aye," Tom gave, sitting back now to push at his food with his fork. "Is that child his?" Tom pointed.

It took everything in Mary not to glare at Tom. "Yes, because Matthew and I are married and—"

"You play by the rules. Got it."

"I'm sorry...you're right I do have morals."

"You don't have morals." Tom paused. "Well maybe you do. But I think the larger point is that you have a reputation to keep up with."

"You don't know me…"

Tom nodded. "And you don't know me either. Funny how that works."

"You're not doing much to win us over."

"I didn't know that was necessary. I assume you're all leaving soon. I'll go back to living my life as it once was...without any of you in it."

"It's not going to be like that anymore. We want Sybil back—"

"Is she a hostage?"

"You're not letting her talk, so I'd say—"

"Maybe I have nothing to say to you," Sybil interjected, emphasized by a shrug. She looked to Mary, her eyes glossed over with tears. "I didn't have a choice—"

"In leaving?" Edith asked incredulously. "Of course you did!"

Sybil sighed out, already exhausted by how defeated this was all making her feel. "I didn't have a choice," she repeated, "in being cut out from your lives. When I left that was not my intention but that's how the rest of you wanted it to be and you can say that isn't true but it is...it's true for me. So I coped and I moved on because, again, I had no choice. Then in accepting all of that, I finally began to make my own choices. Now you're back and you don't approve and I'm reminded of why I left in the first place."

"Sybil, Mama and Papa gave you a world of choices…"

"Choices I did not want!" she said, not yelling but with a volume that was suppressed through gritted teeth. "I didn't want marriage, I wanted medical school. It seemed the only thing I wanted was something they refused to give me."

"You didn't put up much of a fight…" Mary tried.

"Of course I did! I stopped going to the parties and the functions. I spent all of my time at school and I turned down all of Papa's offers for me to date any of the men he works with. He and Mama cared far more about that than what universities I wanted to attend. I wanted my own life…"

Mary's glare turned cold. "Are you saying I don't have my own life? That Edith," she nodded, "doesn't have her own life?"

"No I'm just saying that the lives you two wanted were lives that happened to work with what Mama and Papa wanted. You were lucky. They wouldn't even listen to my side of things so I left."

Tom looked to her, finding her thigh under the table and caressing her skin with his thumb. There was an important detail she left out, but he was thankful for that; it was the only thing about Sybil he wished to forget.

"Alright then," Mary bit back. "Is this the life you wanted then? Unmarried and with a child?"

"Yes because you've left out several important details. One being that I finally am in medical school and I'm doing quite well. I have a man who loves me and I don't need a piece of paper to prove that. I have a beautiful daughter...you have a beautiful niece."

"What's her name?" Edith asked softly.

Sybil couldn't suppress her smile. "Isla Grace."

"Crawley?"

"No," Sybil laughed off, mostly in amusement. She was fanciful to think that someday they'd also see it as a ridiculous question. "Branson."

"You didn't want your daughter to share your last name?"

"No, because it won't be my last name forever. When the time's right, we will have the same last name."

"So there's a wedding then?"

Again, Sybil gave an entertained grin. "I mean, sure. I assume there will be. Someday."

"What school are you attending?" It was the first words spoken by the blonde man at the table and Tom couldn't help but to respect him for it. He sat back, waiting, enjoying how her husband's words had calmed Mary down, nearly changing her existence completely. He smirked; he knew that feeling all too well.

"Columbia," Sybil beamed.

"That's a difficult school to get into. Bravo!"

Sybil smiled. "Thank you. And how's the practice?"

"Growing," he admitted. Like her, he was also hesitant to admit to his accomplishments. "I'm busy trying to get everything done before this baby arrives…"

"Which is when?"

"A few months. June, actually."

"Do you have a name picked out?"

"We do," Matthew gave, turning to Mary as if to ask for permission to share.

"George," she gave simply.

"Dapper," Sybil responded. "Well I'm sure he'll be very loved…" She spoke honestly but in doing so, the pain behind her acknowledgement felt all the more real. The tears she'd been holding back overcame her and immediately cascaded down her cheeks. She wiped them away, one then several more, as she pushed away from the table and headed for the door. Tom could only watch her go, once again left in a room with a family Sybil once called her own.

~!~

On the way back to her room, Sybil nearly collided with her grandmother. She was far too busy wiping at her cheeks, ridding them of their moisture with flat palms pressed heavily against them. She felt much like a child, young in a way she hadn't for quite some time. She was a mother and soon, as she had just revealed, she'd be a wife. In leaving London she grew up and though she often questioned if she'd ever return to the city, she never guessed she'd be back to feeling this immature. Even so, the tears would not cease.

"Sybil? Darling…" Martha began, working to envelop her granddaughter.

Sybil accepted her comfort but only momentarily. As she detached from her grandmother she wished Isla would have begun to cry, making her exit a planned one. Her mind was elsewhere but her physical presence was insisted upon.

"Sybil…"

"Did you know?"

Martha's features softened in search of an answer. "Know what, dear?"

"That they'd be here! I mean, you knew we were coming home! We were gone a full two weeks, Gran! Could they have not come sooner?"

"I didn't invite them, Sybil!"

"You…" she paused. "Wait, you didn't?"

"No! And if I had, I'd be smarter than to allow them to stay this long."

"But you did…"

"I did and I don't regret it. They may upset me but they are my family just as you are. I don't have to like them as much as I like you but I think it'd be highly unfair of me to refuse to open my home to my daughter, don't you?"

"I just wish...we could have gone somewhere else."

"Could you have? I know how much those airline tickets cost you, Sybil. And I know what Tom makes each month and I know, despite all of your hard work, how little you're saving as it is. Where would you have gone?"

"Somewhere," she reasoned with a shrug. "Anywhere. They're insufferable…"

Martha pursed her lips into a frown. "I know, my girl, but I genuinely think they want to help." Sybil shot her grandmother an icy glare. "They want to make things right. But they'll do it in their own way...on their own terms."

"That's how they've always done things. That's why I left. They could live that life but I couldn't. My terms were not their terms. They couldn't even believe I'd have such lofty goals!"

"Yes, darling, but you did and you do. Listen...growing up means forgiving your parents. And I'd be saying this if things weren't as they are now. You have to forgive them. You're an adult now and you've created a life you're proud of. You, like many other little girls, have survived. Live in your version of the now and forgive them. You can't give yourself to Tom and Isla if you don't and I'd say they both deserve your full attention."

Sybil nodded. "You're right," she spoke softly.

"Your father and mother may not deserve it and they may say stupid things and not approve but accept it for what it is. At the end of the day you know your truth and that's the truth you're going to live. They're here now but they won't be here forever...do you understand?"

"We...Tom and I might go back to Ireland...we may not be here forever either."

Martha piqued an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I don't know...it's silly. It was just something we discussed. It came up a lot, actually. That's his home and he's connected to Dublin in a way I've never been connected to any place before. I want Isla to understand the importance of home and I think she may be able to find it there."

"Do you?"

Sybil paused. Her forehead creased in question. "I do…"

"Did you think moving there was a good idea before your parents were here?"

"I—"

"You can't always run away to Ireland, Sybil. If that's what you want to do then I will support you. I will even come visit you and tolerate the rain to see Isla, but I don't believe that's what you want to do and I don't know if that's what is best for you and Tom. That's a step backward, no?"

"I don't...maybe," she sighed out. "I don't know, Gran. I'm just tired and we honestly had a really lovely time and it was all a bit intense being back there again and this wasn't the way I wanted to come home."

"Home. You see, this is where your life is now. If your mother and father have pushed their way in, stand your ground. If you're proud of the life you've living then don't let them make you feel otherwise. It's as easy as that."

Sybil gave her grandmother an exaggerated frown, nearly causing Martha to laugh. "It is not even kind of as easy as that."

"No? Well with that attitude you're setting yourself up for failure…" They were her parting words. She gave her granddaughter a light swat on her bottom, causing Sybil to nearly jump up, propelling her toward her bedroom. Inside she quickly shut her door, immediately gliding toward Isla to pick the child up. Already she was standing, her fingers in her mouth and a smile so bright Sybil couldn't help but to forget any sadness she was previously experiencing.

"There's my girl," she sang, scooping her daughter up in her arms. "Did you have a good nap?" she asked. As she did, she smoothed Isla's hair back and pressed several kisses to her head. Together she rocked her, walking toward the window to show Isla the city.

This was a common event each day. Either Sybil or Tom would stand with the child by the window, pointing out addresses as if they were memories and not simple skyscrapers. There was the walk they used to take each morning in the park and the subway station where they met Tom each night when he got off of work. There was the restaurant uptown they took Tom for his twenty-fifth birthday. Sybil's favorite baby boutique was on the West Side and she told Isla all the times she spent money there, eventually earning disappointed but sympathetic glares from Tom. Usually these places gave Sybil a chance to tell her daughter just how loved she was, all because Sybil couldn't help but to be in love with the girl's father.

A knock sounded at the door and for whatever reason, perhaps the sunset or the white noise coming from Eighth Avenue, Sybil called out a soft "come in". The visitor entered but it was not Tom or even Martha. It also wasn't Mary or Edith there to apologize. Instead it was Sybil's own mother, her eyes wide as she approached the pair.

The two had barely said a word to one another but Cora couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch the child's back. Isla turned her head so she was facing her grandmother, but she merely blinked, not giving the woman a smile.

"She's beautiful…"

"She is," Sybil accepted. Despite Martha's words and how much she agreed with them, Sybil couldn't help but to feel uneasy with her mother this close. Tom's things littered this room, evidence of their shared life on every bare surface. This room was private, concealing secrets a mother couldn't possibly understand and Sybil didn't have the time to give Cora the chance to try.

"Isla, right?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "It's Scottish, actually. Not Irish," she explained curtly.

"He's Irish, correct?"

"Tom? My boyfriend?" she asked in a tone that warned more than it clarified. "Yes, Mama, he's Irish."

"He's...I mean, I assume but I don't know, so...he's her father?"

Sybil's eyes turned to slits as she worked to figure her mother out. Cora was doing her best to remain diplomatic but Sybil couldn't help but to take offense. "Yes, mother, he's her father. Christ!"

"Well I don't know, Sybil! What if he wasn't and I assumed? You'd be upset then too!"

"I'm upset because you shouldn't have to ask these questions! You should know!"

"How should I know, Sybil? You disappeared!"

"And you let me!" she yelled back.

As she caught her breath the silence worked to underline just how loud she had been. It scared her and she pressed a kiss to Isla's temple before putting the child down in her nearby playpen. With her hands on her hips she approached her mother once more. "I wrote to you. Every day. Then every week. Then every other week…"

"Your father didn't—"

"I don't care!" she seethed. "What about you, Mum? If you wanted to write me, why didn't you?"

Cora looked down. "There's no excuse, Sybil. You're right. But in the moment I was angry and—"

"I was angry too. I freaked out and I left and it may not have been right but I was the child. I make mistakes and that's supposed to be okay because I'm the child. You're my mother. You were the adult and you blamed me...you just let me go. You didn't ask why. You didn't try to get me back. You just let go."

"Sybil…"

"I don't have anything more to say to you. I'm sorry, but I really don't. You're wrong. That's it. I'm sorry I hurt you but that's all I can apologize for."

"We…"

Behind them the door opened, revealing a tired-looking Tom. He made eye contact with both women but when he saw just how defeated Sybil looked, he shut the door behind him and stood off to the side, silently existing in support while he grabbed for Isla from the floor. Like Sybil had earlier, he rocked the child on his hip, all the while listening to the conversation Sybil was having with her mother. As he did, he wondered if it would have ended differently had he not walked in.

"We...your father and I," Cora corrected, "want to have dinner with you and Tom tonight."

"We have Isla. We can't," she responded brashly.

"Your grandmother already agreed to take her and I know Mary and Matthew would love to have the practice."

"None of Mary's friends have children? Does anyone in that town have sex?"

Cora paused, doing her best to bite her tongue. "I know you're doing your best to shock me, Sybil. I'm not saying what I did was right and we can discuss that but I'm telling you right now that I do not plan to budge. It's taken me over a year to get your father here and I think he's finally coming around. The baby hasn't helped to ease him into the situation though...we expected that you had a boyfriend we just didn't know to what extent. Anyway, we just want a night alone to discuss everything."

"I don't need to prove my life to you. I like where I am and—"

"And I'm so happy for you. Genuinely. I want to hear all about it. I'm not asking you to do any of that I just want us all to talk. Your father and I may have things to say to you that may surprise you."

Sybil looked off to the side. "I doubt it," she whispered. Tom, still doing his best to pretend he was focused solely on Isla, let out a breathy laugh.

"Your grandmother has asked Paolo to prepare something here. Your father wanted to go out but I don't think that's best. I want you to be able to say what you have to say and, knowing you, I know that a public place may not be the best venue for that."

Even Sybil had to smirk. "So your grandmother and Mary will watch Isla up here and we can have dinner downstairs. We'll talk for as little or as long as you'd like and if you get uncomfortable then you're more than welcome to leave. But I'm asking that you at least give us a chance to spend time together. If you walk into this expecting to hate it, you will and—"

"You and Gran are more alike than you think," Sybil observed.

Cora stopped, accessing her daughter's claim. In an attempt to show her daughter the respect she expected to receive later that night she simply nodded. "Perhaps."

Sybil smirked and turned to Tom. "What do you think?"

Tom pretended to be startled when she addressed him. "Huh?"

She saw right through his acting and let out a raspy chuckle. "Dinner. With my parents."

"Yeah...yeah, whatever you want to do, love."

Sybil smiled and turned back to her mother. "Alright," she sighed. "We'll go."

~!~

"What do I wear to this thing?" Tom called out over his shoulder.

He was studying his section of the walk-in closet, that of which was barely full. In all honesty, Sybil didn't take up that much room either. He knew (because he asked) that this was not always the case. Not too long ago Sybil had subscribed to the lavish lifestyle he could only tell her parents were accustomed too. She was not too prideful to admit that she missed some of it. The vacations, she commented, were nice and the lack of worry over things like school, bills, and children. All too quickly though she'd remind Tom that despite all of the nonsense, she loved their life together. He believed her because he knew how happy she had made him and he felt her agree with this sentiment every time the two even occupied the same space.

Sybil popped her head into the room. She smiled at his antics but loved the moment all the more because he was naked from the waist up. Isla was already downstairs with Mary and Matthew, so Sybil took advantage of their privacy to step into him and hug him from behind. He smiled too, leaning back into her to show he approved of her move.

"You're not helping," he tried.

Sybil pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. "Let's cancel. This will be much more fun."

Tom raised his eyebrows, turning to face her as he did so, so she could also be in his grasp. "This?"

"Us," she said softly.

"I...I want to talk to your parents."

Sybil's forehead creased. "You do?"

"You talked to my mum…"

"I knew your mum before all of this."

"By _this_ do you mean _us_ again?"

"Yes," Sybil smirked with pursed lips. "Us and Isla and our life together as a family."

"Well she didn't know I had a daughter. This isn't much different."

"Yeah but she knew we were together…"

"I don't know," Tom shrugged. Sybil could tell he was doing his best to avoid an argument so she held back too. "I'd just like to prove to them I'm not—"

"You don't have anything to prove to them, Tom."

"Well I'd hope not. I mean, you're their daughter and they should trust that you have enough sense to choose to love a good man but—"

"I didn't choose to love you, Tom. It just happened...quickly and deeply. But you are a good man and I don't care if they agree with that. It's not really up for debate, love."

"But you wanted my mum to like you—"

"I'm sorry I keep cutting you off but you're talking nonsense," Sybil admits honestly. "I wanted your mum to like me because she likes you—"

"Your parents like you too, Sybil. They—"

"Love me? Do they?"

Tom sighed and turned back to his things, finally setting on a simply blue button-up that he hastily pulled off the hanger causing the wood to swing back and forth in its wake. "I don't want to get into it, Sybil. I'm just saying that I'm not completely dreading this and I'm going to try to be civil and I think you should be too. If we go into this ready to defend, we won't be helping the situation...then it'll be a wasted night that could have been spent with my daughter."

"Or me? In bed?"

Tom smiled. He turned off the light behind Sybil and walked back into their room. She followed and was not angry at his disregard because she knew it was a symbolic wave of a white flag. There was silence and the moment was gone. Sybil disappeared and when she came back she wore a dress Tom had yet to see her in.

"Is that new?"

"No. I...I've had it and I wanted to wear it in Ireland but it didn't feel right."

"Is it expensive?"

"It was. But we bought it on sale...it doesn't matter," Sybil added quickly. "I just mean that I didn't really need to wear it. My parents are the type of people you need to impress with those things. Your mum and Katie Grace are not...and that was nice. It was really nice, actually."

"Well I can't promise I'm going to impress them," Tom admitted honestly. "But like I said, I'll do my best to make this as easy as possible for you."

"For me?"

"For us," he said, causing both of them to smile before sharing a sweet, soft kiss.

~!~

Heading downstairs, Sybil and Tom stood side by side. They took each step together and when they reached the bottom, Tom felt Sybil's resistance. In an effort to support her, he pressed his hand to her back. Sybil assumed he was trying to tickle her and immediately shied away from his hands. The two shared a laugh as they clumsily descended the stairs. It was in this manner that they presented themselves to Sybil's parents and in realizing they were not alone, the smiles they wore faded and the two stiffened like children preparing themselves for a reprimand.

Lost in muted conversation, Cora and Robert looked to the pair. In doing their best to be calm they attempted to adopt the smiles Sybil and her boyfriend wore. It was a feeble attempt. There was nothing but silence hanging in the already uncomfortable air as the four of them sat down.

It was an awkward shuffling at first. A member of Martha's wait staff appeared to prepare cocktails as everyone unfolded their napkins and put them on their laps. Sybil looked across the table to Tom, already wishing the two weren't so far apart. Why it was her parents decided to sit at the head of the table, she was unsure. It actually did make her feel very small, like a teenager bringing her first boyfriend home. Sybil was certainly not a teenager but Tom technically was her first boyfriend. Even so, she didn't deserve the way both her mother and father stared at Tom as if to ask if he was capable of existing in this world — their world.

Tom ignored them. Even after living with Martha for over a year this was new to him. They'd never had a dinner like this and Tom could even tell that Sybil was uncomfortable, though he hoped that was not behavior he was encouraging. He was nervous but not because the atmosphere was new. Tom couldn't shake the way he had great disdain for Sybil's parents, especially her father, while at the same time wishing to impress the couple.

"Sybil, we—" Robert stopped himself. He let out a nervous chuckle and wiped at his lips before continuing. "I'm...I'm sorry this is so awkward but I guess it's going to be for awhile. I...I don't know what to say."

Sybil snapped her head in her father's direction. "Then why did you come?"

"I wanted to see you," Robert revealed as if the answer were an easy one. "We," he emphasized, now pointing at Cora, "wanted to see you."

"Why now?"

Tom could only watch all of this. He was here to support Sybil and if that meant existing with a tight-lipped mouth, he'd do just that. It was easy now when Sybil seemed to sure of herself. What he worried about was the vulnerabilities she'd face and how he'd have no other option but to stick up for her when she was unable to stick up for herself.

"We'd…"

Cora interrupted her husband. "We'd heard you were in New York and I wanted to come see your grandmother. She didn't tell us you were here, of course—"

"Of course," Sybil repeated condescendingly.

"I've...we've missed you, Sybil. I know that's difficult for you to understand but—"

"It's not difficult, actually," Sybil gave sweetly. Tom could tell that behind her small smile there were years of hurt. "I used to miss you both a lot."

Robert leaned forward. "Used to?"

"I got over it," she stated, shrugging. Tom looked away. Taking her in was like staring at the sun, knowing she gave him strength and that there was beauty in that but finding it was altogether too painful to sustain eye contact.

"Sybil, you can't…" Robert sighed out. "You can't write us off completely."

"Why?" she tried, now with her arms crossed over her chest. "You two wrote me off."

"We didn't…" Her father let out yet another nervous scoff. "We didn't write you off Sybil—"

"No, because you didn't write me at all!" She threw her hands up. As she settled down again she found herself thankful that her mother offered to hold this dinner here. She was already impatient and the night had just begun.

"Sybil…"

"Stop saying my name! It doesn't mean anything! You're not saying anything, you're just stalling time. Why? Because there's nothing to say! Nothing you could say could make any of this alright. I was ambushed coming home and now I'm being forced to confront all of this when none of this was my choice."

"You leaving was your choice," Robert reminded.

"I left because I had no choices, Dad."

"You had plenty of choices, Sybil," Cora assured. "We gave you everything you could have ever wanted."

"Did you? I told you I wanted to go to medical school and you laughed. During sixth form I wanted to go see all of these schools and you either decided work was more important or spent the time talking over me about parties and fundraisers."

"I don't remember laughing," Cora commented flatly.

"Well you did! Trust me! I remember...several times. I stopped bringing it up because I was sick of hearing it. But I still hear it now. I'm in med school now, Mum! I'm in med school and I still hear your stupid laughter…"

This bit of news had Robert perking up. "You're in medical school?"

"Yeah," Sybil gave softly. "Columbia. I got in all those years ago."

"You came here so you could come to Columbia?"

"No, I came here and now I'm going to Columbia. I reapplied and got in...again."

"You weren't...you weren't here this entire time?"

Sybil, who was sipping at her water, placed the crystal back on the table. "No. I wasn't here."

"Where...where were you?"

"With him, I presume?" Robert asked. He merely nodded toward Tom.

Sybil turned toward her father more fully. "His name is Tom and you're not allowed to presume anything. If we're going to have this talk, you're going to be respectful and you're going to call him by his name...because he has one," Sybil repeated.

Robert followed his daughter's orders — a first in their twenty-three year relationship. He turned toward Tom and sighed out. "And you're why she left?"

Tom, with eyes cast down at his empty plate, chuckled. "No. Though I can understand why you'd want to assume that. I guess that'd be easier…" It felt odd to address Sybil's father so simply. It was also uncomfortable because the two had not formally met. Tom knew only what Sybil told him and the interaction they were sharing now only bolstered her claims.

"It's easy for you to think that I'm just some dumb girl who left her home because a man came into her life?" Sybil let out a laugh in disbelief. "See? This is the bullshit I'm talking about…"

"Sybil!" Cora shrieked.

Tom could only smirk. He remembered the first time he heard Sybil cuss and how he could tell then it was a first for her. Now he encouraged the habit with her dirtiest mouth coming out when he was inside of her and the two were hidden from the world underneath a thin bedsheet. Maybe this was why he wanted to kiss her now.

"Well he's not."

"Then you two met…" Cora's question trailed off.

Sybil rolled her eyes, wondering if it was in fact a question or if her mother was just fishing for any new direction to steer this conversation in. "Do you care?"

"Sybil, please…" Robert gritted, his hand now a clenched fist, strong against the table.

"Well Tom," she emphasized, "and I met in Ireland."

"Why were you in Ireland?"

"Sybil, it's not safe there…" Cora warned.

It was this that had Tom, who was doing his best to bite his tongue, letting out a breathy chuckle. Though he didn't care what Sybil's mother or father thought of his behavior, he still found himself moving to cover his mouth, an action that was forgotten when Sybil looked to him and began to grin.

"It's plenty safe," Sybil assured. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Sybil, they're not kind to us."

"They? They're people, Dad! Just like you and me. And they're plenty kind! Far kinder than my own family was…"

"Tuh…" It was merely a sound as Cora thought of a way to delicately assemble her words. "Tom, what did you do there?"

"Uh, I was born there," he said simply. "Went to school…" His thoughts left him as he looked to Sybil and thought of how to finish that sentence.

She sat forward in aid. "Tom's a journalist," she stated.

Sybil did so believing that was the more important information anyway; it was not who they once were but who they wished to be now. Sybil hoped he was not offended that she glossed over his past. She wasn't ashamed, but it seemed she wanted to finish this dinner as quickly as she could and elaboration was not in their favor if that was to be achieved.

"What do you write?"

"Politics," Tom said simply. It was the truth, or at least the current truth. It was also what he would have done back in Dublin had he not been consumed by other things.

"Sybil...what—"

"I went to Trinity, Mum," Sybil stated in exasperation. "Started med school and—"

"When did you meet Tom?"

"There? I don't know!" she gave. "Why does it matter? Why does any of this matter? You didn't care before so why do you care now?"

"We care because you've brought a child into this world, Sybil!" Robert roared. "You're a completely different girl now and we have a granddaughter—"

"You don't have anything," she spat. "I'm not a little girl anymore and I won't be talked down to like this. I am a mother and soon I'll be a wife and—"

"You two are not married?" Cora shrieked.

"Nope! Not married, Mum!"

"Sybil, how—"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she deadpanned, "is that disappointing? Bet you don't want to claim me as yours now…"

"Sybil, that is enough!" Robert admonished.

Cora stepped in. "Sybil, why didn't you want to be married?"

"I want to be married, Mum. I just don't care to do it now."

"Is the baby not Tom's then?" Robert asked. His words twisted the knife Cora had poked her daughter with only an hour prior.

Sybil's eyes bulged and her face turned scarlet. She was moment away from tossing her napkin down but Tom watched her, his eyes practically pinning her body to her seat. He wanted her to keep her composure; he was not ready to let her parents win.

"How can you even say that?" she spat. "Why is that so easy for everyone to assume?" Her eyes were now coated in moisture. This time she did throw down her napkin but before she could push off from the table, her father's words called her back.

"Well how are we supposed to know these things? He's not on the birth certificate!"

"Excuse me?" she seethed. Even Cora looked shocked.

"Well he's not!"

"How do you even know that?" Sybil yelled.

"Your mother...well I made a few phone calls. I wanted to see where you were."

"And you found Isla's birth certificate?"

"Eventually, yes," Robert confirmed.

"Well Tom is her father and—"

"Then where were you?" Robert repeated. When he looked to Tom it was the first time the men had made eye contact.

"In Ireland," Tom stated simply.

"You were having a child and you didn't care to be there for it?"

"He didn't know!" Sybil shouted. Somehow such an embarrassing thing would be less shameful to her parents than the truth — the truth that came next, this time from Tom and all without apology.

"I was in prison, actually," he stated rather cockily. Sybil's breath hitched at the sound and she watched as he sipped at his water and put the glass back down on the table. She'd only seen him in this state one other time; when the world he lived in insulted Sybil and his arrogance perked to ensure that would not continue to happen. But this was her world now and for whatever reason he felt just as protective.

"Excuse me?" Robert bellowed.

"Oh yeah. Spent a whole year there." His accent was unbelievably thick.

"You—"

"Sybil, did you know this?"

"Don't be daft, Mum! Of course I knew!"

"What did you do?"

"Dad! Enough!" Sybil shouted. "I'm done with this conversation!"

"Well we're not," Cora stated rather calmly. "Tom, what did you—"

"Mum! Stop! It's not important! None of this is important!" She paused. The tears had arrived and with them she felt her chest growing tighter and tighter. She was sure that if she continued to exist in this moment her lungs would have no other choice but to give up completely.

"Yes, Sybil, it is! Our granddaughter—"

"She's not your granddaughter! You gave up that right!"

"What? Are you not our daughter anymore either?"

"I don't know! I didn't seem to be your daughter when I left! I wasn't your daughter when you didn't return my phone calls or read my letters. You're ashamed of things you don't understand. You don't get to claim Isla and write me off, Dad!"

"You will always be our daughter, Sybil," Cora assured. "We just don't understand any of this…"

"It's not your place to understand! It's my life and you made a choice not to be apart of it."

"Well we want to be apart of it now!"

"Do you?" she spat. "Well I don't know if I want you here. My life was pretty damn wonderful before you came along—"

"Before we came along you let some thug knock you up! You lived in Ireland, Sybil! Of all places!"

There was a single beat of silence. "You're deplorable," Sybil muttered.

The room grew quiet. All that could be heard was the way everyone attempted to catch their breath. The fact that Sybil had not yet ran for the door told Tom it was time for him to step in again. "We really are a terrible group of people, sir," he tried.

Robert looked to him again. "What are you saying?'

"Well I'm agreeing with you. That's what you think, right?"

"You don't know what I think…"

"Well I do know you worked for Maggie Thatcher."

"I still do work with Mrs. Thatcher, yes," Robert confirmed. There was a certain calm existing between the men and as Sybil and Cora's eyes ping-ponged between them, both found themselves unsettled by the air of it.

"Well she's a cunt," Tom stated simply.

Sybil's eyes grew wide and Tom, not even slightly apologetic for what he'd said, sat back in his chair.

"Sybil, who have you allowed to father your child?"

"A man I love," Sybil said strongly. "A good man who...she hasn't been kind, Dad. You know how I felt about her and Tom's had to live through all of it firsthand and—"

"Well they haven't been civilized," Robert said, as if it were an acceptable argument.

"Actually, sir," Tom tried again, "Two of the men you sent over to keep all of us in line tried to have a go at Sybil and my best friend intervened. Didn't end too well but I'd say if anyone's not civilized, it's them."

"Sybil, is this—"

"Yes, it's true!" Sybil shrieked. She just wanted all the noise to stop.

"One of them killed my best friend," Tom stated, just as confidently.

"Tom…" Sybil warned. She knew where this was going and her eyes warned for him to stop being it arrived there. "Please…"

"But it's okay," he continued anyway. "Because I beat the shit out of him and he's dead now. And that's why I was in prison and that's why I missed Isla's birth. But I don't regret any of it. Your people have taken far more from me and my people than we could ever hope to take from you."

"How can you say these things so calmly?" Cora quaked. She was nearly crying too.

"You get used to it," Tom shrugged. "I also don't care what either of you think of me. I'm sorry, but I don't. I wish I did but I just don't have the time for it. I don't care to put forth effort for people who treat Sybil the way that you have. You're being unfair and I think you casting her off is far worse than anything I could have done."

"Do you talk to your parents this way too, then?"

"Well my dad's dead," Tom said, still so stoically. "You killed him too."

Sybil dropped her head down behind her hand to shield her eyes. She thought she was crying, at least that's what her chest told her as it heaved and her face turned warm. But when she reached up to wipe at her cheeks she found they were dry. Her body was done crying tears for her parents and now, when she was more sad for Tom than for anything else, she felt empty. She had finally achieved a feeling she once misunderstood him for; Sybil felt numb.

"Does it make you happy to know you've made her cry?"

Tom waited, though it was a short-lived requirement. Sybil picked her head up and turned immediately to her father. "I am not crying for him! I'm crying for you!"

"Aren't you embarrassed?" Cora asked. Though Tom did not know, Sybil could tell how genuine her mother's concern was. Her parents did have feelings, they were just often misplaced, or poorly executed when directed properly.

"Yes! I'm embarrassed for you!" She tossed out. "This is insane because I'm trying to convince you of something you had made your mind up on long before you came here and you tricked me into coming and I just...I knew this dinner was a mistake. I just want to pack my things and go somewhere else and—"

"You can't keep hiding from everything, Sybil!" Cora tried.

"I'm not hiding from anything, Mum! I just...I coped. I learned to live without you two. I forgot you and Mary and Edith. I stopped caring. And now you're back and you're pretending you care but nothing has changed. You're far more capable of judgment than you ever were with love. You couldn't see that med school would make me happy and then I left and instead of stepping back and wondering what role you played in that you blamed me. I was the problem. And now you're back and apparently you want to make things better but all you're doing is criticizing me! You've disrespected Tom! You've disrespected Isla! You've done nothing but judge me and my life and the people in it. This is my family now. I'm sorry but I was doing well before you two got here. I was...I was happy," she shrugged, also laughing, even through her tears. "So if you'd excuse me, I'm not very hungry and I'd much rather spend the rest of the night with my daughter."

Sybil did not say his name, nor did she motion to Tom. Even so, he followed, but when she made it to the hallway leading their room, he was gone and Mary and Matthew sat quiet on the sofa in the nearby library, whispering amongst one another. They looked up when they saw her and Mary's face even fell, wondering what it was that could have her sister crying. Actually, she had a thousand guesses, all of which would go unconfirmed. Mary stood, but as she stepped in to Sybil, Sybil stepped back.

"Isla's asleep," Matthew stated flatly.

Sybil nodded and then disappeared.

* * *

Alright...before everyone gets their knickers in a twist let me just say that I've gone back and forth on posting this chapter for over a week now. I wondered if Tom's comments, while true in his mind, were too much but then I realized that was more my fear of what you, the reader, would think. In my opinion (you're certainly welcome to have your own and it is certainly fine if it is different) they're extremely true to character considering what Tom has experienced. That is where my opinion will stop because I just don't have the energy to get into it right now. So again, please have your own - I'd love to hear it.

And now I'm going to do my best to not take eighty four years to post the next chapter…

(Is anyone even still reading this?)

x. Elle


	4. Chapter 4

Sybil stared at the door, wondering when Tom would walk through it. She had already showered and was now sitting on the edge of their bed running lotion up and down her legs. She knew he hadn't followed her and she had expected that from him; she too had conflicting feelings about their conversations, and they grew to be all the more menacing the longer he was gone.

In reality, it had only been fifteen minutes or so. Sybil knew this because when he walked in she looked away, her eyes instead catching on the clock on the wall. His shirt was untucked and he quickly began to unbutton it altogether but before she could comment on any of it, he spoke.

"I went to the bodega…"

"Are you back to smoking now?" she inquired, referring to the smell of cigarettes he brought in with him. Sybil then explained: "I smelled it on you when we were in Dublin too…"

Tom looked to the ground. "I'm not...I'm not picking it up again or anything. It's just habit and I'm sorry but it calms me down." Sybil looked to him. Her eyes narrowed as if to tell him that she only half-believed what he had said. "Nula and I had a fag. It's...I don't know. It reminded me of old times. There's comfort in it." Tom looked away now, his eyes concentrating on removing his watch and setting the gold down onto the nearby dresser.

Sybil stood slowly and walked to her own vanity to put her bottle of lotion back. Her sweetness mixed with his ash highlighted the tension in the room. Their actions were also contrasted, for as slowly as Sybil moved, Tom was darting about. He was shirtless now, grabbing for towels from the nearby linen closet before heading toward their bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Sybil called.

Tom stopped. "The bathroom. The smoke...I was going to take a shower," he explained. But he always showered before bed and the explanation was more about his acknowledgement toward the work he was doing to constantly keep Sybil happy. Smoking did remind Tom of his old life, but amongst the nostalgia there was hurt there too. Sometimes the smell made him more queasy than Sybil could imagine.

"Can we talk about this?"

He was still once more. Apparently he had read her wrong and was now adding that to the list of things he was ashamed of. "Sure...Sure, love..." He had other things to say but he could only concentrate on walking to her. "Sure."

Sybil was sitting at her vanity now so Tom took a seat on the corner of the bed, occupying the space she had just been. He waited, doing his best to be patient when his body seemed to crave the warm water of the shower the longer he was away from it. Tom blinked, over and over again, doing his best to keep his eyes from closing altogether. Apparently he wanted sleep now too.

"I...I'm sorry," she managed softly.

Tom sat up. "You? Syb, I...I'm sorry," he emphasized. "I shouldn't have said any of that and—"

"Why? I mean, why do you care? I don't care!" she said, a hand pressed inwardly toward her heart.

"Because I...I'm not sorry for what I did but I'm not proud of how it makes you look."

"How it makes me look?"

"You know, like...your parents think you fucked a felon. I don't like the way they look at you because of what I've done. It's shit."

"Yeah well they weren't much kinder before we told them all of that, were they?"

"We? No, me, Syb. And again, I am sorry. Really, I am. I should have kept my mouth shut and—"

"Tom, I didn't keep my mouth shut either!"

"But they're your parents!"

"And you're my boyfriend!" Sybil tossed back. "I love you, Tom! You're the father of my child and most of all, you're my best friend. You and Isla are my family. They gave up that right a long time ago. I don't...I don't care what they think so there's no sense in you caring."

"I don't like the way they talk to you, Sybil," Tom said strongly, this time with more confidence. Slowly he was shedding the scared boy he had become when he walked up West 74th Street to buy a pack of fags.

"Yeah, well neither do I. But that's the way they've always talked to me. That's...that's why I left," she said, breathing out and simultaneously lifting a weight from her chest. It was the first of many that would be lost.

"Do you...do you want to go somewhere?"

Sybil piqued an eyebrow. "Go somewhere?"

"I don't know...you said you wanted to pack your things. Maybe we could go to the beach for a bit...you know, until they leave."

Sybil smiled. She stood and went to him, her hands immediately pressed to his face. "You're sweet, Tom."

"I was hardly sweet to your parents…"

"Yes, well I'm not talking about them right now. I'm talking about you. You're thoughtful and kind and gentle and…" She breathed out once more. "I don't care what they think but I guess I just wished they could see what I see."

"I don't blame them. I shouldn't have called Thatcher a cunt."

Sybil giggled, dropping her head down to do so. Her hands remained on Tom's naked shoulders now and her thumbs toyed at the gold chain of his cross necklace. "Well, maybe not," she shrugged. "But she is."

Tom was previously staring at the floor but something in her tone had him smirking. He pressed his tongue into his cheek and as his eyes scanned upward they took all of Sybil in. Her pale legs and the way her arms disappeared in the soft wool of one of his sweaters, that of which was now hanging off her shoulders. "She is what?" Tom finally asked, clearly teasing.

Sybil laughed again. "I'm not saying that word."

"It's a good word," Tom conceded with a chuckle. "You should say it…"

"Tom…" Sybil warned. Though her voice told of ceasement, she did not move. In fact, when Tom reached out for her hips, Sybil only softened into his grip.

"I like when your mouth says dirty things."

"I know you do," she said breathily. "You like when my mouth does a lot of things."

Tom's eyes widened. He was so shocked he removed a hand from Sybil's backside to point in her direction. "You said that! Not me!"

Sybil dropped her head back. "Alright you, off to the shower."

Tom sighed while they detached completely. The moment was gone with Sybil going back to her vanity to apply eye cream. He wasn't too far before he turned back to her and asked the question that was to blame for the smile she was already wearing. "You wanna come?"

Sybil continued to smile. If she looked to him it was likely she would have agreed but with her eyes concentrating on the mirror, she shook her head.

"You're missing out, Sybil Crawley."

Even though a large part of her (her heart, mostly) was sad, Sybil couldn't help but to smile. In a way she wished her parents could see this, how Tom banished any form of self-doubt and did nothing but support and build-up the woman she wanted to be and now was — all because of him.

She wore this smile, and his cardigan, out of her room. The house was quiet and she found herself wondering how everyone had disappeared so quickly. If she didn't know any better she'd think this was all a dream. For a while she hoped that was the case but when she shut the refrigerator after retrieving a glass of water, Sybil nearly jumped back. Thankfully it was not her mother or father standing before her.

"Mary," Sybil whispered, her breath halted to the back of her throat making it so she couldn't manage much else.

"I...I've been waiting…"

Sybil's forehead creased. "Well that's creepy…"

Mary gave a small smile. "You can say what you want and you have the right to say it but I don't like to see you cry and I know how Mum and Dad can be and I'm sure they weren't kind and I guess…"

Sybil nodded. "S'fine."

"Well it's not though, because—"

Sybil reached forward and placed a hand to her sister's shoulder. "Mary, I...I love you. I do. You're my sister and you're my family and I truly do adore you. But this, right now...you apologizing," she tried to explain, "is about you. You feel bad...and I get that. I appreciate it but I'm tired. I'll let you do all of this tomorrow but tonight I just need to be alone. I've done what everyone else wanted me to do today so I'm going to be selfish right now and do what I want to do…"

Without sound or fanfare, Sybil walked away. Mary was speechless but she watched her go, wondering when in the world her baby sister had grown up so fast. Even when Sybil was back in her room, Mary did not retreat. She remained in the still-dark kitchen, her back leaning against the island while she ran a hand over the swell of her stomach.

Back in her room, Sybil was quiet shutting the door. Maybe she expected Tom to be in bed or maybe she didn't want to disturb the calm that existed beyond the large white door she had just latched.

Tom wasn't in bed. Somehow he was still naked, standing in nothing but a towel while he finished brushing his teeth. When he saw her he was smiling too, and happier now that his hands and mouth were free to approach her and preposition her with plans for the rest of the night.

He stepped into her, all of her softening underneath his touch while his hands wrapped around her waist and his lips immediately began to suck at the skin of her neck. She shied away from his kisses but soon she was moving her hair, giving him even more room to assault her skin into beautiful shapes of lavender and blue.

"How are you not dressed yet?

Tom lifted his head. "Are you complaining?"

"Never complaining," she said, giggling.

"I missed you in the shower," he admitted. His voice was gruff, mimicking the way his hands now ran up and down her back, all before slipping into her sleep shorts to rest on her bum.

"You smell good," she commented.

Tom could only grin before placing another kiss to her collarbone. Her lips had gone untouched and somehow she didn't mind. "Better than smoke?"

Sybil nodded. "Much."

Without prompt Sybil jumped up onto Tom and the two stumbled backward, with Tom pressing a strong hand to the mattress before settling them both down upon it. Even when he wanted her, even when the two believed their intimacy could erase all evil in the world, he was still so unbelievably gentle.

When their lips did meet, it was chaste at first. Each kiss was short, with both nipping at one another, slowly and softly with lips that didn't seem to want to part. Soon though Tom's cardigan was pushed off of Sybil's shoulders and while his hands began to inch underneath her shirt, Sybil pressed her tongue against his causing his hips to involuntarily buck into her.

Sybil dropped her head back to laugh. "This is nice, you know…"

Tom was distracted, but his curiosity stunted the way his palm was now cupping her breast. "What is?"

Sybil's mouth fell. She must not have thought he would have asked for an elaboration because she was suddenly hesitant to give one. "You still wanting me."

Tom blinked quickly. "What?"

"I don't know…"

He shifted upon her. "Yeah, me neither. Of course I want you. Always," he assured with a seductive kiss pressed to her shoulder.

"Even when I'm a witch to my parents?"

"Especially when you're a witch to your parents," Tom growled.

Sybil giggled, giving in to his ministrations now that his hand had brought her chest to two stiff peaks and was now working to push her camisole off her shoulders so his mouth could remedy the situation he'd procured. Sybil was impatient so she nudged him off of her if only to rid herself of the clothing she wore. Tom found himself even more aroused when Sybil flipped them over so she was on top. He stared up at her, amazed by her beauty but surprised to find she was still so willing to give herself to him in this way. He turned hours to days in prison wondering if she regretted what they had done. All the while he savored those memories, especially the silent moments they shared thereafter when her brow was dotted with beads of sweat and he dismissed her doubts with a kiss to her eyelids. While Tom was lost in her eyes or the freckles on her arms, Sybil found herself wondering how Tom was so capable of love after losing so much.

"Hey," Sybil finally tried, causing the two to pull away. Her hands kept a strong grip on his neck while her thumbs caressed his cheeks and kept him close. Tom felt powerless beneath her but he couldn't help but let the pads of his fingertips get acquainted with her skin as if it were the first time. Despite what she thought, Tom did nothing but wake up each morning to find he only wanted Sybil more.

"Yeah?" Tom lifted his head.

"I'm sorry, I...I got distracted."

"S'okay," Tom nodded before kissing her forcefully.

Sybil reciprocated but when the two pulled away it seemed she was not done talking. While he waited, Tom pondered about whether or not Sybil wanted to bring up his language again. He figured she was still bothered by the things he'd said or even open to admitting that she preferred he hadn't told her parents about his past. Instead she gave a different sentiment, one that negated all Tom could have dreamed up. "I love you. I don't know if I...I love you, Tom," she settled. "I'm sorry my parents were so unkind. They don't...they don't know what they're talking about."

"Sometimes my mum doesn't either," Tom said with a nervous laugh.

"Your mother's bias is tame compared to my parents. I just...I don't want you to think of what they said, alright? You have to forget it. They don't know what they're talking about and—"

"Syb…" Tom tried. He was naked beneath her but somehow that didn't stop them from starting this conversation. "Love, are you telling me this for me or for you?"

"What?"

Tom chuckled again. "Do you need to validate that that all doesn't matter before we sleep together or—"

Sybil shook her head. "What? I mean…"

"Sybil, love, stop thinking about it. That's what this is, right? Let's just forget for a bit, yeah?"

She nodded. Really, she had no other choice. Even that was difficult as soon his hand was pressed steadily to the back of her head, keeping them joined at the lips. He wasn't even inside her and already the two were rocking against one another. When that closeness finally was achieved Sybil tossed her head back but only long enough for the both to get comfortable — mere seconds, maybe. Soon they were attached again, with Sybil keeping a strong grip on Tom's shoulders so the rolling of her hips taunted him in the way he liked. He licked his lips at the mere sight of her, bare skinned and sleepy even as she moved against him. At one point he had her bottom lip between his teeth and when he thought that perhaps the pain was too much, Sybil only returned for more, her fingers pleading as they raked at his scalp.

The pair nearly came together, loudly and without apology. It was all a haze but both were brought back to reality by the other laughing, inviting an unreal amount of peace into the room. Sybil didn't even bother to roll off of Tom, she just settled into his side, her lips seeking out his neck with the simple extension of her own.

"Branson," she whispered.

Tom blinked, stretching so his eyes could rest directly upon hers. "Huh?"

"You called me Sybil Crawley before. I want to be Sybil Branson."

Tom laughed. "Are you proposing to me?"

"No," Sybil dismissed with a giggle. "Well…" Her voice trailed off. "Maybe."

"You can't do that because I have plans."

Sybil gave a cheeky grin. "Plans?"

"Don't worry about it. But—"

Sybil kissed him fiercely. When they broke apart their eyes fluttered open and neither could contain just how elated they felt in this moment. "I just...I didn't care but after tonight I don't want their name anymore. I want your name...and Isla's name," she added.

Tom nodded. "Alright then."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," Tom stated energetically. "Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow. If you want my name I will very happily give you my name. Just know that—"

"I know," she nodded quickly. "And I don't want to ruin any of those plans you have. I mean, whatever they are...I'm sure I'll love it. But I'm done with my past. You're my world now and like I told my parents, you and Isla are my family. I'm ready to be Sybil Branson. I don't want to wait any longer."

~!~

Before dawn, Sybil had slipped from out of Tom's embrace and moved to slowly sit up. In her nakedness she searched around in the darkness for her robe and as she moved to slip her arms into the sleeves, Tom awoke and reached out for her.

"Sun's not even up…" he commented. His face was still very much facing down into his pillow and he squinted an eye shut making Sybil giggle at the sight of him.

"I know," she said softly, reaching out for him. "I haven't seen Isla in a few hours and I've just been laying here thinking of her so I figured I'd get up and make us breakfast."

"How does that involve Isla?"

"I heard her on the monitor not too long ago. She'll help."

Tom chuckled. "Yeah, she's a big help in the kitchen, I imagine."

"She is!" Sybil laughed with him. "But you know what would be even better? If her Daddy came to help too."

Tom groaned and turned away from Sybil once more. All she could see of him was the freckles on his shoulders and the muscles on his back just below. He settled further into the bed but his eyes remained open, blinking at the slit in the curtains, attempting to reveal a new day.

"I was really enjoying laying here…"

"Yeah, me too but we have to face the world sometime—"

Tom disagreed, or at least his body did. He grabbed Sybil's midsection and pulled her toward him. She shrieked but did little to put up a fight. In fact, when she was completely enveloped in his arms once more, she wondered how in the world she had escaped his grasp so easily just moments before.

"I don't want to face the world today," he finally admitted with a kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Love, we have to."

"I just—"

Sybil turned to him, their faces practically touching as she looked at him over her shoulder. "Do it for me?"

It was all Tom needed. Soon he was throwing off the comforter and padding toward his armoire to grab for a pair of sweatpants. Sybil watched him go, never quite tiring of the sight of his backside. Constantly she was reminded of their first night together and how she was so shy then. She'd told Tom many times since then that she wanted to and would have slept with him that first evening out on the hideabed. He didn't believe her but it didn't keep his mouth from going dry.

By the time he was ready, Sybil was still brushing her teeth. Already he was seeing flecs of her, flashes where the old her was trying to reemerge. She said she didn't care about her parents but she still spent time fixing her hair and the outfit she planned to wear into the kitchen was far nicer than her usual attire. The couple may not have had plans to sit down with the Crawleys but even Sybil couldn't deny the way she felt the need to impress them. In their world, her old life, the person you presented to everyone was far more important than the way you felt inside.

"I'm going to grab Isla."

Sybil popped her head out of the bathroom. "Am I taking too long?"

Tom smirked. "A bit. But I'll use the time to change and dress her. Take your time…"

Sybil grinned. "Thanks, love."

Outside Tom spotted Martha heading up the stairs. She looked at him sympathetically, and instead of their usually shared sarcastic grins Tom responded with a forced smile.

"How is she?"

Tom sighed out. "Fine."

Martha's face fell as if to ask Tom for the truth once more. He was steadfast. "She's fine...we're fine."

"I heard you called Maggie Thatcher a—"

Tom's mouth turned sour, but he was clearly just as amused as Martha seemed to be. "I did. I guess that one's going to follow me around for awhile."

"How did Sybil take that?"

"Well she agrees with me so—"

"Tom," Martha began, deliberately cutting him off. "They're still her parents. You understand that, right? And she can say what she wants and act a certain way, but she cares and I don't think it's fair for either of us to pretend like she doesn't."

"I'm not pretending. I'm following her lead. I apologized and she got mad at me. It's like I'm not allowed to talk about it. She just wants to act like none of this is happening and…" He stuttered, like a car sputtering the longer it's dead engine was forced to run. "I don't know what to do," he shrugged in earnest.

Martha gave a small smile of her own and even moved to Tom to press a hand to his cheek. "She's lucky to have you, Tom. And I'm happy that she does. Sybil has always needed someone to challenge her and she certainly met her match when she fell in love with you. Don't give up on her now just because that's what she has asked you to do."

"But—"

Martha shook her head, ultimately causing Tom's mouth to still once more. "She's going to have to get a hell of a lot more angry before any of this gets better. And I think you need to help get her there. It's not going to be easy and it's certainly not going to be fun but she'll thank you in the end." Martha paused. "That girl is going to regret it if she doesn't say the things she has always wanted to say to them. You and Sybil have worked so hard to be where you are and she deserves to truly leave her past in London if that's what she wants. But she needs to make that decision and I don't know if she's there yet."

Tom sighed out. "She's not…" His voice trailed off but sharply turned a corner, reapproaching the situation. "Or maybe she is. She's...she's to that point. She's made the decision. She doesn't want to let go of London. I guess...I guess that scares me a bit."

"No, my boy, don't let it scare you. You may not want to believe it but the girl you fell in love with was a girl from London. Even if she does decide to cast off that world completely it'll always be within her. But she chose you and that won't change. Just know that if her parents disapprove of you, she'll side with you and won't dare apologize to them. If you're fine with that being her decision and if you're okay with Isla not knowing her grandparents or her aunts, then so be it. I think some days Sybil's fine with that too. Just know you're not as much of an outsider in all of this as you'd like to be."

Tom's shoulders deflated as he let out another sigh. He was halfway down the hallway when he heard Martha call back to him. "Oh! And Tom?" He only looked to her. "Maggie's nickname? That wasn't the only thing I heard last night. If you want to make this as easy as possible for her, I suggest you two keep it down."

~!~

It was with bright red cheeks that Tom greeted Isla. She was sitting idly, sucking on her stuffed giraffe but she stood when she saw her father enter. Many mornings were just like this one, making it easy for Tom to grab for her and get her ready for the day. As they returned to the bedroom Tom and Sybil shared, Tom nearly chuckled thinking it was likely Isla would be the most well dressed between the three of them.

When they entered it didn't take long for Sybil to approach. Her hands immediately reached out for Isla and Tom was far too enamored watching his girls together to ever feel sad at the loss of contact with his daughter. While he continued to observe them, Sybil now bouncing Isla on her hip, he noticed that beyond her nicer sleep sets, Sybil had changed completely.

"Syb? Are...are we sitting down then?"

Sybil paused, looking to him in confusion. "Huh?"

"Should I…should I change?" he asked, now pulling at his sweatpants.

"No!" she brushed off. "Why would you change?"

"Because I look homeless next to you and Isla…"

Sybil smirked. "Love, you look like we always do for breakfast."

"Yes, but _you_ don't." He stood now and padded for the closet. "It's fine," he said, slightly begrudgingly and with a hand raised as if to block a rebuttal. "I'll change."

Sybil forced a smile. "Oh...okay." Soon the roles were reversed with Tom getting ready and Sybil and Isla waiting for him. When he emerged he looked quite smart and Sybil told him this with a strong kiss - their first of the morning. As they walked down to the kitchen, she looked to him. "I'm sorry...you didn't need to change. I guess I didn't realize that I—"

"Look like you're going to a dinner party? Yeah, well you do."

"Tom…" Sybil tried. "Are you mad at me?"

"Hardly, love. I'm just trying to do what you want to do but it seems you don't know what you want to do. One minute you don't care and the next you're taking nearly an hour to get ready. Let's just call this what it is."

Sybil stopped in the hallway. The way she held Isla on her hip made it easy for her body language to push him away. "How is it then?"

"You care, Syb! And that's okay! But let's stop pretending like you don't."

"I don't care, Tom!"

"You're not some weak person for admitting this! You're human and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know and I don't buy, even for a second, that this just isn't affecting you. Admit it is and let's confront it."

Sybil's eyes narrowed. "Did my grandmother talk to you?"

"What does that matter?"

"You weren't like this last night. Were you agreeing with me because you wanted to get laid or—"

Tom blinked — hard. Her words hit him at such an uncomfortable angle he was hesitant to open his eyes back up again. "You did not just say that…"

"You're right," she said, now beginning to walk again. "I didn't."

Outside of the kitchen the pair paused. Tom looked to Sybil, now wondering what it was he had done and how amidst all of this all he really wished to do was kiss her. If last night were any indication, she was his fiance now, and he refused to believe their first day with this new title would be filled with tension.

"I'm sorry," Sybil muttered quickly.

Tom looked to her. "Syb, it's fine, love…"

"It's not. I'm sorry. Just please say you understand because none of this is sitting well with me and I don't know how I feel about it and it's all making me feel very, very crazy."

"Syb…" Tom wanted to envelop her but the way in which her features and posture remained stoic made doing so seem out of place.

"It means a lot to me that you're here to help me and I'm sorry if I'm all over the place but I don't think I could do this without you, alright? So...so thank you."

Tom smiled. Gently he reached for her neck, pulling her toward him so he could press a kiss to her forehead. "I have excused your insanity from the day we met."

Sybil couldn't contain her amusement, even going as far as to drop her head back in laughter. "You arse," she whispered, now nudging him with her elbow as they entered the kitchen.

Inside Paolo moved about preparing breakfast for the rest of the house. He smiled at the pair and instantly asked what it was he could get them. Sybil could only manage a sweet grin, explaining rather softly that she appreciated the gesture but that they were going to prepare their own meals. Paolo shrugged and Tom watched the chef, realizing that in his world such a negation of service was almost offensive.

It did not stop Sybil from dancing around, first cutting fruit and then making Isla's oatmeal at the stove. All the while Tom had Isla on his hip. Just as soon as Sybil was done the two would trade and he'd go to making them french toast and bacon. While he did, Sybil fed Isla. Really, aside from Paolo's existence, this was a pretty typical morning.

Though Sybil insisted that they remain in the kitchen, she kept her eyes trained on the door leading out to the formal dining room. Her interest in possibly being interrupted came with intense apprehension on Tom's behalf; he bit at his toast and slowly kept his eyes trained on her, as if to ask that she remain with him and Isla.

When she finally sat back down, now with a fresh cup of coffee, she merely smiled at Tom as if to display just how oblivious her intentions were. "Did you want to go eat with them?" Tom asked simply.

Sybil smirked. "What?" she tried, feigning conviction. "No, of course not," she laughed.

"You can if you want."

" _I_ can?" Sybil asked, pressing a hand to her breastbone. A simple cross hung from a delicate chain, a show of her new alliances, silently encouraged by the same man who'd purchased the item for her recent birthday.

Tom shook his head, scoffing off a laugh he tossed over his shoulder as he concentrated his gaze out the window on the city below.

"Why are you laughing?" Sybil demanded.

"I'm laughing because I don't know why you're lying."

"Lying?"

He laughed again. "You're even really bad at lying about lying."

"I don't know what you're on about," Sybil dismissed.

"If you want to go sit with your family then—"

"I am sitting with my family, Tom."

"Alright well if you'd like to go join your grandmother's guests in the dining room, I wouldn't mind."

"Would you come?"

Tom noticed a change in her causing him to sit back. The plate before him was practically cleared already. "I don't know if that would help."

"Well I'm certainly not facing them alone."

"Because of what I said?"

"No, because you're a big part of my life now...you are my life," she corrected adamantly. "And it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of support."

"Sybil, love, I'm always going to support you." He exhaled and leaned into her, reaching out for her hands so he could hold them in his own. "That's why I'm telling you that it's fine if you go. I'll take Isla to the park...or the library. I'm not saying it's going to be easy but it might be a good place to start. You know, without me."

"Tom…"

"I'm sure they have questions and it'll just be easier to get all of that out if I'm not there. If you want to get over this then you have to let them speak their piece. I know you have things you want to say and this might be a good way to get them out."

"If they'll let me even talk."

"Make them listen," Tom tried. He stood now and began to collect their dirty dishware. "It worked with me and I'm almost as stubborn as you."

Sybil's mouth dropped open. Even with the cup of coffee she cradled in her hands she awkwardly kicked at Tom as he walked away from the table toward the sink. They shared a laugh, one that highlighted Sybil's resolve when it finally dissipated from the air. "You're right. I'll talk to them."

~!~

Everyone stared when Sybil entered the dining room. Her appearance drained all of the humor from the room, something that became all the more pronounced when a member of Martha's staff finished clearing the table and promptly excused himself, leaving the family alone. They were all enjoying their tea and when Sybil sat down, her mug of coffee sat on the linen tablecloth in stark contrast with the porcelain of their china. She also sat with her feet tucked beneath her, with an upper body that was twisted toward the group, using the chair backing as an armrest.

"Does anyone have plans?" Sybil asked simply.

Mary looked to her sister. "No, but it seems you do," she quipped.

"Tom—"

"Where is he?" Cora inquired.

"He's taken Isla to the park."

Robert seemed confused. "The park?"

"Yeah Dad, it's that massive group of trees out that window right there…" Sybil said, pointing and then sipping at her coffee to hide her amusement. Without Tom she felt less confident in her sarcasm.

"Does he work?" Edith asked. Sybil looked to her sister, wondering if there was genuine curiosity behind her otherwise snarky question.

"No, Gram actually…" She laughed, stopping her own speech with a hand pushed through her messy curls. "Yes, he works," she tried again. "He has a very good job with _The New Yorker_."

"You don't have a nanny?" Cora wondered.

"No. We're trying to save for a flat so—"

"Your grandmother would pay for it, I'm sure," Robert said.

"We don't need a nanny."

"Sybil, darling, no one _needs_ a nanny but that still doesn't mean it's not a nice thing to have. Why are you looking to move out anyway?"

Sybil blinked; she was a different sort of confused, almost as if she was a true outsider amongst people she once considered family. "This was temporary. We've already overstayed our welcome—"

"Gram's asked you to leave?" Mary tried, clearly shocked.

Sybil gave a pause. Though Tom was not here she felt his hand on her knee, encouraging patience with their ignorance. "I'm twenty four, Mary. I have a child. I'm more than capable of living on my own—"

"Yes, dear, but it's like the nanny. Why forego all of this if you don't have to?"

Sybil gave a face to show her clear disbelief at how aloof her family was. "Is it difficult for you to believe that maybe this isn't what everyone wants? I'm asking that honestly. Is it so hard to believe that not everyone wants the life you have?"

"Is it a bad life then?" Robert asked, slightly appalled.

"It's hardly a bad life and I'm glad I grew up the way I did and I'm lucky that Isla has had those same luxuries. But this isn't the life that's meant for Tom and me—"

"Is he asking that you move?"

Sybil shook her head again. "Hardly. We don't ask much of one another. He is my partner and my best friend and we make decisions together. We're both incredibly grateful for Granmama's hospitality but we'd like to build a life of our own."

"Even if it means struggling?"

"Struggling? I am sorry that your privilege makes such a thing seem so rare but most people do struggle. It's actually more common than not for families in this city to struggle. But no, it won't be a struggle. Tom has his salary and I'll have a position as soon as I graduate. We have money saved and…" Again Sybil found herself pausing, mostly for her own benefit. She felt empty, unloading all of these truths in a way that did nothing to benefit her. "He's a good man…"

"With a sharp tongue," Robert added, all with an eye roll.

"Yeah, he does," Sybil laughed, "we both do." Then: "You do too."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone who has opinions that differ from yours is not someone who is wrong."

"Sybil, the man's been in prison!"

Edith leaned in. "Is that true, Sybil?"

"It...it is. But it was a misunderstanding...and an unfortunate one at that."

"You were there?" Cora tried with a weak voice.

"Where?"

"When he killed that man…" she explained.

"He was barely a man. He couldn't have been much older than eighteen. But yes, I was. I was also there moments earlier when that same boy put a gun to someone's heart and carelessly pulled the trigger. That someone was Tom's best friend...also a good man."

"A man who goes to prison is—" Robert began.

"A man who stands up for what he believes in, no matter the consequences, is a good man, Dad," Sybil insisted through a tense jaw.

"But Sybil," Cora chided, "he's still been in prison. And he left you alone when you needed him most."

"He did no such thing! He didn't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Of course he did!" Robert laughed. "He could have calmed his temper and kept his hands off that man."

Sybil laughed too. "His temper? If you saw the things I saw, you'd think Tom's reaction was tame."

"Sybil," Cora sighed, "we told you...I just can't believe you'd go to Ireland."

"It's not some foreign place!" Sybil tossed back. "It was my home for three years!"

"Then why did you leave?"

"Tom…" Sybil thought of her declaration only moments before. "Tom asked me to."

Mary scoffed. "And you listened to him? I thought you two never asked anything of one another..."

"It wasn't safe for me there."

"See!" Robert pointed. "It's _not_ safe!"

"Well you've made it that way! If people came into your home and demanded you live a certain way I think you'd find yourself to be a bit miffed as well."

"Miffed?"

"Did you know that the men on the street can just request a search anytime they'd like? Of your home or your vehicle or your person...how is that civilized? And why? Because we're different?"

Robert leaned in, stunned. "We?" He let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. "Are you one of them now?"

"I'm not Irish but my daughter and her father are so I might as well be. And Tom and I are raising Isla Catholic—"

Robert coughed, nearly choking on his mouthful of hot tea. "What was that?"

"We are. I don't know why that's much of a shock. We never went to church if it wasn't a holiday."

"And you go now?" Edith tried.

"We do. Every weekend. It's a big part of who Tom is and that's important to me."

"So you're Catholic now?" Cora clarified.

"I'd say I am, yes. There are classes I have to take if we want to be married in a Catholic church and I know we will so I'll have to do those, but—"

"Sybil, why are you so quick to give up who you are?" Mary asked simply.

Sybil's gaze narrowed. "Who I am? Do any of you actually know who I am? Or who I was?" She tossed out a laugh coated in offense. "I don't know if I knew who I was. That was the problem. I couldn't...I couldn't breathe," Sybil insisted, now with tears coating her eyes. "I literally felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't figure out who I was because I was so busy trying to be what you wanted. All I knew was that all of that...the gowns and the fundraisers and the parties...that's not what I wanted. And the only way for me to figure it out was to leave. That's it."

"And you figured it out in Ireland then?"

"I did. Some of it. And I'm still figuring it out. But I like my life now. I'm proud of my life and what I've done and who I've become."

"You're proud that you've had a daughter before marriage?"

"I'm proud to mother a beautiful baby girl, yes."

"Was she planned?" Cora asked. Her eyes were still so wide Sybil wondered how long she'd take to recover from this conversation alone.

"No," Sybil gave — boldly but with rouged cheeks. "And Tom didn't know about her. I didn't want him to worry."

"Why? You spent time worrying about him, no doubt!"

"I did. I still worry about him. He's experienced things I can't even begin to understand. But he was a victim of circumstance. There was no sense in giving him news if he couldn't be there for it either way."

"Why didn't you have the child in Ireland then?"

"I told you," Sybil gave through gritted teeth, "that Tom didn't want me in Ireland."

"If he loves it so much you'd think he'd want to keep you there."

"He loves what it used to be, not what it is now. It's unfortunate to see what we've done to their culture."

"So you're back on our side now?" Mary sassed.

"There are no sides!" Sybil nearly yelled. "There shouldn't be! There should just be people living the life they want to live without other people meddling."

Robert's fist clenched upon the table. "You don't know what you're talking about, Sybil. He's brainwashed you."

"Ha!" Sybil let out in jest. "Here we go again, Dad! I must be crazy to disagree with you."

"You must be crazy to—"

Sybil stood up and abruptly pushed her chair in. "Any other questions?" When no one said anything she turned back to her father. "I know I said that it's right and fair for people to have differing opinions but I think this is one situation in which I can confidently tell you that you are wrong. You don't even get to have an opinion here. It's not your country. It's not your religion. You don't know the people and you certainly don't know the culture. And worst of all, you don't care to learn any of it! Even if it's something that your daughter deems important, and I do! This is who I am, Dad! Like it or not, this is who I want to be and this is the life I want to lead. I'm going to do it with or without your permission. I don't even ask for your understanding. But if you want to be a part of it...if you want to see your granddaughter...I'm going to ask that you at least respect it."

* * *

I KNOW it's been forever since I've updated this and I'm sorry! I've had some of this written but I got carried away with the momentum of _Faith in Fate_. These chapters are also meant to be far longer than _FiF_ 's so that factored in as well. Anyway! Sorry it was late - thanks for reading - go review now maybe?

x. Elle


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